Halo: Necropolis
by M306117
Summary: Successfully returning to Earth, the soldiers of the Heavy Hitter are given new orders: investigate a colony that has fallen silent amid reports of quarantines and riots. Scott, now a Spartan-IV, must lead his team into a city ravaged by something worse than riots. Cut off from support, this group of newly created Spartans will be hard pressed to survive and get everyone out alive.
1. Chapter 1

**AN: ****I don't own Left 4 Dead or Halo. They belong to Valve and Bungie/Microsoft/343 Industries respectively.**

Chapter One

**Spartan-B124**_**, **_**aboard captured Covenant Assault Carrier. 2003 Hours, October 10, 2552 (Military Calendar)**

The forward viewscreens showed nothing but blackness as the assault carrier travelled through the void known as Slipspace.

Scott, SPARTAN-B124, stood before the screens, hands clasped behind his back, watching each of them intently.

'Time to transition?' he asked.

'Thirty minutes, give or take.' Sasha, the AI in control of the ship, responded, her avatar hovering above a holotank that looked out of place, the only piece of human technology on an otherwise alien bridge. 'I'm still getting accustomed to the Covenant's technology.'

'Tell me when we're about to drop back into normal space.' The Spartan said.

Behind him, sat in the command chair, Marine Captain Miles flicked through a roster of all the personnel onboard.

'Hard to believe we got through that with so few dead.' She said, scrolling down to the section containing the details on the deceased crewmembers. 'We lost the command crew, one Marine, ten ODSTs and a single Scorpion.'

'They were using outdated weaponry for the most part.' Tara, a dumb AI that resided in Scott's MJOLNIR armour, said. 'And our interactions with the Covenant were limited to small scale raids.'

The men and women on the assault carrier had, just over a month ago, been transported to an alternate Earth by an alien artefact neither of human or Covenant origin, an Earth that had been engulfed by nuclear war and reduced to a radioactive wasteland populated with savages, warlords and megalomaniacs, with mutated beasts thrown in for good measure.

They had fought a UFO of unknown origin and their ship, a frigate, had been damaged in the fight, prompting its captain to send Scott and Tara to the planet's surface in hopes of finding parts and information.

Instead, they had been drawn into a war between two factions looking to control the area in and around the former capital of America, Washington, DC, now christened the Capital Wastelands, that resulted in the eradication of a brutal mercenary force and the formation of an alliance that would take the Spartan and the crew of the frigate on a cross-country trip to the states of Nevada and California where they would become unwilling participants in yet another war, this one fought between a slave army based on ancient Rome and a growing democracy modelling itself on the American government.

Scott, alongside Marines and ODSTs, had helped repulse the two invading armies with minimal UNSC casualties while inflicting a five figure body count on the two armies in the space of a single day.

But before he or the inhabitants of New Vegas, the city he was tasked with defending, could start celebrating in earnest, the Covenant, an alien alliance hell-bent on wiping humanity from existence, had appeared in orbit and shot their frigate down.

It was only after a daring raid that the Covenant ship fell to the UNSC and became their new vessel out of there.

Now the humans onboard it hoped that the ship could take them home.

'Let's just hope there's a serviceable hulk in the space over Leon.' Sasha said. 'Cole Protocol doesn't allow for Covenant weapons or craft to be taken to human space without an exhaustive search for tracking devices.'

'We have six hundred plus people onboard, Sasha.' Miles said. 'With just as many Engineers to help as well and tell us if there any installed.'

One of the pink-blue aliens, the Covenant's mechanics, scientists and possibly medics, ran a tentacle over a flickering screen before floating over to Scott, whistling and chirping. It had taken a liking to the Spartan since he'd come onto the ship and hardly left the room Scott was in. It had told him its name as well, Sinks like a Rock.

His translation software converted Rock's whistling a second later as text that scrolled across Scott's HUD

_Do you wish for me to upgrade your suit's shields? _Rock asked. _I can use parts from the Shipmaster's armour to replace your current emitters and power source._

Scott shook his head. 'Thanks, but no. We're about to drop back into real space. I don't want to be caught without my armour in case we encounter hostiles and are boarded.'

_Are you sure? It wouldn't take long._

'I'm sure.' Scott said. He paused them handed Rock his battle rifle. 'You can upgrade the sights on this if you want.'

The Engineer wrapped its tentacles around the scoped weapon, chirping happily as it moved to an empty corner and began disassembling the scope.

'He really likes you.' Miles observed. 'But I wouldn't get too emotionally attached. ONI is likely to take him away when we get back.'

'I know.' Scott said, glancing at the Marine. 'But if it wants to help, I'll let it.'

Rock disassembled the battle rifle's scope with unbelievable quickness and started to run a tentacle over it, the fine silica doing all manner of things that Scott couldn't even begin to guess at. It had already seen to his armour's chest, fixing the plasma scoring inflicted on it by two Elites by grafting plating from a Scorpion onto the damaged sections, and given an upgrade to the suit's motion tracker, making it more sensitive and accurate.

Scott couldn't tell whether the alien's offer at upgrading his shielding was a veiled jibe at its low power next to the Elite's shields or if it was a genuine offer of kindness. Though given how happy Rock seemed at fixing Scott's things, he guessed it was the latter.

'I wonder what the UNSC could do if it got its hands on some Engineers of its own.' Tara mused aloud as Rock reassembled the scope then began working on the firing mechanism, giving the rifle a full examination.

'A lot, probably.' Miles murmured. 'Those guys are like biological supercomputers. They might even be able to give our ships shields in no time.' She put the clipboard down and sat back in her seat, blowing out a long breath. 'That would certainly turn the tables on those Covie bastards.'

'They'd be as effective as we are on the ground.' A newcomer said, prompting Miles and Scott to turn around and see Gunnery Sergeant Mitchell, the ranking ODST onboard.

'Maybe, Gunny.' Scott said, turning back to the viewscreens. 'Have you completed your search of the ship?'

'Yeah. Found a bunch of dead aliens.' Mitchell said, leaning against Miles' command chair. 'You know, the good kind.'

Scott glanced at Rock as he floated over, battle rifle held out to the Spartan. He accepted it and performed a quick test of the gun, noting happily that zoom had increased and the resulting image was much clearer.

_I even cleaned out the barrel and increased the twist rate slightly, making it more accurate!_Rock said, almost happily. _Do you have anything else I can fix?_

'No.' Scott said. 'Thank you, though, for offering.'

Rock let out a satisfied whistle and went back to the flickering screen, taking it out to get at the faulty component.

'Man, you get all the cool stuff.' Mitchell said, tracking Rock. 'An AI that helps you break into places, a recharging energy shield, armour that boosts your physical strength. Why can't Helljumpers have that?'

'Your body doesn't have the necessary drive to operate MJOLNIR armour.' Scott said. 'The reactive circuits would pulverise your bones. They'd need to be reinforced.'

'Dammit.' Mitchell muttered. 'So how long till we get back?'

'Ten minutes.' Sasha said. 'I'm warming up the plasma turrets and energy projector, just in case we encounter any lingering Covenant.'

'Power them down.' Scott said. 'If there are Covenant, seeing us drop out of Slipspace with weapons powered up will raise suspicions. We don't know enough about their communication procedures to fake a communiqué that covers us. Just drop us far enough out that we can recharge the Slipspace drive if needed and close enough to see what's what.'

'Aye, Commander.' Sasha said. 'Powering down all weapons systems. Preparing to shunt power to Slipspace.'

The minutes ticked by with all eyes locked on the viewscreens as Sasha prepared to drop the titanic assault carrier back into normal space.

'Diverting power... now.' She said as the bridge lights dimmed and deceleration tugged at the ship.

The forward viewscreens snapped on, displaying a blazing star surrounded by three planets.

'No sign of any Covenant ships.' The Marine manning the sensor station reported. 'We're clear.'

'Picking up a faint COM channel.' The soldier at communications said. 'Scanning.' He let out a whoop of joy. 'It's one of ours. We're home, people!'

The rest of the bridge let out a cheer and Scott imagined the rest of the ship doing it as well once Miles told them on a ship wide broadcast.

'Hang on.' He said, checking his screen. 'The COM is the E-BAND Marines left when they pulled back to the capital. Timestamp on the signal is plus four months.'

'December?' Miles said, looking at Scott. 'We're in December?'

'But we've only been gone two months.' Mitchell said. 'Should it be October still?'

'Maybe the artefacts have a time dilation effect.' Sasha said. 'After all, it did take us to an alternate dimension.'

'Yeah, but, two months?' Mitchell said. 'God knows what we've missed.'

'Just be glad we can find out.' Scott said. 'Sasha, take us closer to Leon. We need to find a serviceable wreck.'

'Aye, Commander. Engines answering ahead standard.'

The assault carrier rumbled and moved forwards, towards the third planet in the system. Leon.

Ash choked its seas and the hulks of many once proud human ships orbited the planet, hopefully one of them capable of being repaired.

Scott had fought there months ago, assisting UNSC forces in the evacuation of civilians ahead of an approaching Covenant army alongside two other Spartans, Michael-A006 and Emily-B101. Michael had died taking on a whole Lance of Elites while Emily was badly wounded trying to rescue him, requiring hospitalisation aboard the UNSC _Hopeful, _a mobile hospital that had a reputation of resurrecting the dead.

That had been the last Scott heard of her. He didn't know if she'd survived or not, though he wished she had.

'Start a scan of the ships.' Miles ordered. 'Find us something big enough to hold us all but easy to fix.'

A tall order given the vast number of ships in orbit around Leon. Scott saw on the displays countless frigates and destroyers, their superstructures melted by plasma torpedoes, up to and including a titanic human carrier, the pride of the fleet. It looked to have been struck by an energy project, cutting though both decks and crippling the reactors. They wouldn't be taking that one home.

**Spartan-B124**_**, **_**aboard captured Covenant Assault Carrier, in orbit around Leon. Revised date estimated 1200 Hours, December 14, 2552 (Military Calendar)**

After an hour's search, they were no closer to finding a suitable wreck amongst the debris field. The ships were holed through their reactors or in quickly decaying orbits, making recovery risky at best and suicidal at worst.

They circled the planet twice just to be sure then set course for one of Leon's two moons. If they couldn't find a ship to repair in the debris field, they would have to search theirs for a tracker and leave the artefacts somewhere that would be easy to remember and remove the risk of having the ship travel to a parallel world or be atomised when it made the jump to Slipspace.

Scott helped some of the engineering crew wrestle the two Forerunner artefacts into crates and onto a waiting Phantom. Oddly, the objects were no longer emitting the lethal levels of radiation they had before, making them safe to handle.

On the off chance that they suddenly began giving off radiation again, they were sealed in lead lined boxes and equipped with a transponder that would allow the UNSC to recover them at a later date.

He jumped out of the Covenant dropship and onto the dusty barren surface of Leon's moon, his feet throwing up plumes of dirt.

The celestial body had around half of Earth's gravity, making it easier to manipulate the crates.

'Where should we dump them?' an engineer asked, looking out of place in a set of ODST armour. The shock troopers were the only ones onboard the assault carrier with vacuum rated suits, a must have for the airless moon.

'Anywhere that's suitable.' Scott said. 'Do they need to be placed inside a ditch or hole?'

'Not really.'

'Then leave them where they are.' Scott said. 'We'll head back to the ship and start searching for any trackers.'

'Yes, sir.' The engineer said, stepping away from the lead lined boxes and towards the waiting Phantom's gravity lift, using it to ascend into the dropship's interior. When everyone was back onboard the purple craft rose and sped back to the assault carrier.

**Spartan-B124**_**, **_**aboard captured Covenant Assault Carrier, Slipstream Space – unknown coordinates near Sol Star System. Revised date estimated 1007 Hours, December 20, 2552 (Military Calendar)**

'Let's hope they don't react too quickly to us.' Miles said as the assault carrier's bridge lights dimmed, their power being redirected to the Slipspace drive.

'We managed to transfer a friend-or-foe tag from the UNSC _Solar Flare.'_ Sasha said. 'Any slipspace probes would have registered it and alerted HIGHCOM.'

'They'll mobilise a small battlegroup to come greet us.' Scott said calmly. 'When we drop out, open a channel on FLEETCOM 7.'

The lights dimmed further as the Slipspace drive activated and created a portal out of the void back to normal space. Everyone on the bridge lurched forward as the ship decelerated and the viewscreens came on, displaying the proper Earth, not the radioactive wasteland they had been fighting on for the best part of a month.

They all let out sighs of relief, even Scott, even though a group of seven ships stood between them and the planet, all of them on an intercept course.

'FLEETCOM 7 open, Commander.' Sasha said. 'Whenever you're ready.'

Scott switched to the channel. 'This is Lieutenant Commander SPARTAN-B124, in command of a captured Covenant assault carrier, unknown registry, authentication code Whisky Mike Three Zero Six, to UNSC Earth HIGHCOM. How copy? Over.'

There was a moment's pause and silence filtered over the COM before Scott heard the click of a microphone being activated.

'_SPARTAN-B124, this is Earth HIGHCOM.' _A male voice replied. '_Proceed to orbital docks Keel 5 and await further instructions.'_

'Understood.' Scott said as the approaching battlegroup split up and took up escort positions either side of the assault carrier. 'Sasha, takes us home.'

**Spartan-B124**_**,**_** interior of HIGHCOM Facility Bravo-6. 1200 Hours, December 21, 2552 (Military Calendar)**

Scott sat at perpetual attention as the ONI agent, a man who had identified himself only as Johnson, read through his after action report on everything he and the crew of the _Heavy Hitter _had gone through since arriving at the parallel Earth. It was a heft read, detailing his experiences fighting alongside the Brotherhood of Steel, men and women dedicated to protecting the people of the wastes, and of his incidents with Leonard Heyman, an employee of New Vegas' leader who Scott had left crippled for life after he had made several insulting comments about the Spartan's parents.

Johnson set the data pad down flat on his desk then sat back.

'A parallel Earth.' he said slowly, regarding the Spartan who was out of his armour and dressed in a borrowed set of fatigues, the arms and legs a little too short for the seven foot tall warrior. 'You travelled to an alternate world?'

Scott nodded. 'Yes, sir. That was our conclusion based on the available evidence.'

'And these artefacts that took you there, you left them on a moon?'

'Yes, sir.' Scott said. 'We didn't want to risk being sent to another parallel world. Leaving them on Leon's moon felt like the most appropriate course of action.'

'I see.' Johnson said. 'Let's move on to some of the other details of your time spent in the Wastelands.'

'Of course, sir.' Scott said. 'What did you want to know?'

'Leonard Heyman.' Johnson, making Scott stiffen as memories of him taunting the Spartan flashed into his mind with crystal clarity. 'You say in your report that on three separate occasions, you used physical force against him, including, and I quote, 'deliberate attempts to physically wound and cripple'.' Johnson clasped his hands together and leaned forward. 'Mind telling me what that was about?'

'He insulted my parents, sir.' Scott said. 'They chose to save me instead of themselves during a Covenant attack on my home planet. Leonard Heyman picked up on this during a competition between him, myself and Knight Liam Hullum and used it in an attempt to provoke me. The final incident occurred just after we had taken control of the assault carrier. Heyman had come to McCarran Airport demanded a rematch between the two. When I said no, he threw the first punch and goaded me into a fight, using my parents as fuel.'

'You snapped his knee and crushed his ankle.' Johnson said. 'Not to mention squashing his fist and turning his wrist into what can only be described as dust.' He picked up the data pad and brought up four X-Rays, taken by the medical crew, of the wounds Scott had inflicted. They looked nothing like they should have. 'You either really hated him or really loved your parents. So which was it?'

'Both, sir.'

'Both?' Johnson repeated.

Scott nodded. 'I disliked Heyman from the moment I saw him. He was vain, self-centred and openly mocked good Samaritans like Hullum. His attitude towards me also worsened after Knight Hullum and myself bested him in a series of contests, resulting in the first incident. The second incident happened when he tried to claim equipment that wasn't his and refused to leave.

'It's no excuse, sir. I allowed emotions to cloud my judgement and acted outside of UNSC regulations.' Scott said.

'What makes you think this is a court martial?' Johnson said, prompting a confused look from Scott.

'Sir?'

'Hell, I would have done the exact same as you if I were there.' Johnson said. 'Your record makes note of several instances of aggressive behaviour during your training in the SPARTAN-III program, a common theme with all candidates across all three classes. After all, that's why you signed up. The Covenant killed your parents and you wanted a way to get revenge.' He pulled out a thick paper file and laid it flat on the desk, next to the more modern data pad.

Scott glanced at the file, eyes widening with surprise when he saw his name and Spartan tag on the front. 'Is that...?'

'Your service record, yes.' Johnson said, sliding it over. 'Combat history, full medical notes, psychiatric write ups. Even your last name.'

Scott looked up from the file to Johnson.

He'd forgotten his last name, a life time of being a Spartan with a four digit tag to identify himself with over COMs and to other Spartans. It was just a hazy memory sitting just out of reach.

Gently taking hold of the file, Scott opened the front cover to see his initial application, filled out by an ONI official when he was four.

A small photo was provided, showing him as a young boy. His hair was longer, messy, reaching just above blue eyes that burned with anger and sadness, and framing a face that possessed a seriousness unusual in four year olds. It had been taken the same day Scott had signed up for the Spartan-III program.

He moved away from the photo to the section containing his personal details. Date of birth: 23-02-2530. Parents: deceased. Blood type: O+. Full name: Scott Pierce.

'Why have you given me this, sir?' Scott asked.

'A lot's happened in the last four months, Spartan.' Johnson as Scott continued to read through his file. 'We lost Reach and almost all of the remaining Spartan-IIs. As for the S-IIIs, there's only you and two others I can name that the UNSC is aware of. I think you know one of them.'

'Emily?' Scott said, his head snapping up almost involuntarily. 'She's alive?'

Johnson nodded. 'Took the doctors onboard the _Hopeful _seven hours to put her back together. And, like yourself, her first instinct upon waking up was to gear up and get back into the fight, despite medical orders for three full days of bed rest.' He began manipulating his data pad. 'She made it back to Earth in time to help fend off the Covenant invasion and engaged in guerrilla warfare once their ships made landfall, suffering three more injuries that required hospitalisations, but nevertheless made a meaningful impact.'

'Where is she?' Scott asked.

'Nearby.' Johnson assured him. 'You'll get your chance to see her soon enough. First, though, I need to speak with you on something.'

'What, sir?'

'I mentioned earlier that the UNSC lost most of its Spartans, almost all of them in the defence of Reach. A handful survived, however, and helped during the Battle of Earth before being redirected on a high priority mission to some planet that no longer exists and have since been declared Missing in Action.' Johnson said. 'You and SPARTAN-B101 are the only two combat ready Spartans we have left. ONI thinks that number is too low, especially with a resurgence in Insurrectionist activity and a growing number of remnant Covenant troops cropping up all over the place. So they came up with a response.'

He passed his data pad to Scott, the Spartan taking it and looking over the contents.

He read over it and quickly saw that this was an outline of a new wave of Spartan supersoldiers, called Spartan-IVs. Scott saw references to new augmentation procedures that supposedly had the effects of the enhancements performed on the Spartan-IIs, the first wave of Spartans, but with the survivability of the Spartan-IIIs, the second and more numerous wave. He remembered the pain of his augmentations, the fire that had engulfed his nerves and muscles as they were engineered to be quicker and stronger, and the pain as his bones were reinforced to become virtually unbreakable.

The MJOLNIR armour was being replaced with a newer, more advanced variant dubbed GEN2 that came with increased customisability and a reduced weight, a potential life saver. Wearing armour that weighed half a tone empty reduced the possible avenues of escape to strong, resilient pathways that could either absorb the slow moving weight of a fully armoured Spartan or the shocks as one sprinted across its surface.

What caught Scott's eye the most was the selection criteria for this new wave of Spartans.

'You're selecting veterans from other branches?' he said.

'Yes.' Johnson said. 'Despite the stellar record of the Spartan-II and –III programs, they broke dozens of ethical laws, not the least of which was kidnapping six year olds from their homes to turn them into soldiers or sending pre-teens into battle, knowing full well that they'd die. The UNSC is instead using adult volunteers that have proven themselves capable in combat. We already have some volunteers, even some from the ODSTs you worked with.'

'Who?'

'One Gunnery Sergeant Evan Mitchell and a Private First Class Joey Perry.' Johnson said. 'They both display prominent combat skills and are willing to undergo the augmentation procedures.' He smiled and let out a soft chuckle. 'They even requested to work alongside you. I think they hold you in a high regard.'

'Are you offering me a place within this Spartan-IV program?' Scott asked as he shut down the data pad.

Johnson nodded. 'SPARTAN-B101 has agreed to become a part of it. You'd be placed in the same squad as her, alongside two more soldiers of your choosing. So what do you say, Spartan? Are you in or out?'

Scott glanced at his service record then at Johnson.

'Gunnery Sergeant Mitchell and Private Perry.' He said. 'They're the two I want.'

Johnson smiled. 'I'll organise the paperwork and have them transferred.' He held his hand out which Scott shook. 'Welcome to the Spartan-IV program, Spartan Pierce.'


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: ****I don't own Left 4 Dead or Halo. They belong to Valve and Bungie/Microsoft/343 Industries respectively.**

Chapter Two

**Spartan Pierce**_**,**_** interior of HIGHCOM Facility Bravo-6. 1430 Hours, December 21, 2552 (Military Calendar)**

It felt strange using his last name for the first time in over fifteen years. That last time Scott had used it for anything was on his application form, telling the ONI agent what to put. Since then, he had been either SPARTAN-B124 or Scott-B124, a fire and forget weapon created by ONI to protect humanity.

It had been stranger still to read through his full service record, seeing all the little notes made by the drill instructors about his performance, both alone and within his fireteam, Kilo. Seeing their names hadn't been strange but sobering. All three of them, Jack, Claire and Joan, had died alongside the rest of Beta Company during the attack on Pegasi Delta, a Covenant refinery.

Nearly three hundred Spartans, some of as young as eleven, had died to wipe out the complex. ONI labelled it a resounding strategic success. Scott thought it was more akin to a pyrrhic victory. Three hundred Spartans dead and so soon after their activation.

Even so, he wasn't sure if his being pulled from Beta to serve within a special operations unit of Spartan-IIIs called Grey Team was a good thing or not. On the one hand, Scott was able to continue taking the fight to the Covenant but on the other, would it have been better to perish alongside his fellow Spartans, to be with them until the very end?

'It's about time you showed up.' A familiar voice said, making Scott look up from the table he had been sat at, a lukewarm cup of coffee nestled between his hands. A smile crept onto his face when he saw the owner.

'Hello, Emily.' Scott said as the Spartan sat down opposite him, wearing a similarly faded set of fatigues that weren't quite big enough to conceal her massive frame.

Emily smiled back as she poured herself a cup of coffee. 'Scott.'

Like him, Emily had been a member of Beta Company and like Scott, she had been selected to join Grey Team once their training was over. The two of them, alongside Michael, an Alpha Company veteran, had fought against the Covenant for seven years. She had been their recon specialist while Michael had handled the close up work, leaving Scott to be their marksman and team leader.

'It's good to see you again.' he said.

Leon had been the last time they had all fought together. During the closing battle, Michael had fended off an entire Lance of Elites to give some civilians time to evacuate, while Emily suffered near fatal wounds attempting to rescue him. Scott had dragged them both to safety, but not before wiping out the remaining Elites to do so.

'Likewise.' Emily said. Her face had more scars than Scott remembered, likely souvenirs from fighting the Covenant on Earth. 'Thinking about Beta?'

Scott nodded. 'I usually do when I've got downtime. It's either them or my parents.'

'Me too.' Emily raised her cup in a toast. 'To absent friends.'

Scott brought his cup up and joined her. 'Gone but not forgotten.'

Both Spartans quickly drained their drinks and refilled the empty mugs.

'So what have you been up to while you were away?' Emily asked as she took a preliminary sip of her drink. 'Anything good?'

'I travelled to a parallel world.' Scott said offhandedly as he sloshed his coffee around. 'Fought a bunch of mercenaries, killed a demonic creature that makes an Elite look pretty, inflicted a body count well into the tens of thousands on two different armies in one day and, I stormed an assault carrier by myself.' His smile became more pronounced when Emily's eyebrows twitched upwards, her only outward sign of surprise.

Over the next half hour, Scott told Emily everything he had done in the Capital Wasteland and the Mojave Wasteland, including his chute failure when he dropped in to rescue Mitchell and his ODSTs from the Legion and subsequent brush with death. He didn't spare her any details regarding Heyman.

'I'm surprised you lasted as long as you did.' Emily said once Scott had stopped talking about the last encounter with House's employee.

'I'm not Michael.' Scott said. 'If he'd been there, not me, I'm sure Heyman would have been in pieces within the first few words against his parents.'

Out of the three Spartans in Grey Team, Emily was the one who had the best grasp on controlling her emotions, followed closely by Scott. Michael, however, wasn't quite so restrained. Thankfully, the only people he took that anger out on were the Covenant.

Emily dipped her head. 'True. Still, you ruined both wrists and both ankles. That's a little extreme, don't you think?'

Scott nodded guiltily. 'I didn't like the guy. He was self-centred. If it didn't benefit him some way, shape or form, it wasn't worth his time.'

'Sounds like a charmer.' Emily said. 'You liked this other guy, Hullum, better?'

'Yes.' Scott said. 'He helped people, no matter what. Became something like a beacon of hope to everyone.' He looked down at his coffee. 'Too bad he was the one who died.'

'The universe has a cruel sense of rewarding people.' Emily said quietly.

'Yeah.' Scott said. He took a drink of his coffee then set it down on the table. 'I've told you what I've done since we last saw each other. Now it's your turn.'

Since recovering onboard the _Hopeful, _Emily had shipped back to Earth along with the remnants of the battlegroup sent in to rescue Leon where she was issued with MJOLNIR VI, an upgrade over the Mark V she had worn since November last year. In keeping with her ability as a scout, it had been outfitted with the Recon configuration, a parallel to the Scout variant that relied on an advanced design to reduce infrared signatures than advanced materials like the Scout did.

The armour had proved its worth over the next two months, keeping Emily hidden from Covenant patrols and sensors while she scoped out their encampments during the Battle of Earth, gathering valuable Intel for Marine and ODST forces tasked with eliminating the alien presence from humanity's home world.

She had suffered three major wounds, two from close proximity plasma grenade detonations and one from a Hunter slamming its massive shield into her. It was only down to the suit's onboard supply of Biofoam and a lucky rocket that Emily survived to fight another day, helping to push the Covenant out of Voi and clear a lane for the remaining ships of the Home Fleet to launch a low level strike on several Covenant ships excavating some alien artefact beneath the African plains.

They were unsuccessful and the Covenant managed to activate the device, creating a Slipspace portal to some unknown location.

Then the Flood had shown up.

Scott had listened intently as Emily detailed their arrival, assault on Voi and method of spreading. From what she had seen, the Flood started off as a small pod thing on tentacles that forcibly made its way into a still living host's body and transformed it into a warped shadow of what it had been, human or Covenant.

The way she described it made Scott think back to the Engineers on the assault carrier, how they had spoken of the Forerunners fighting a losing battle against something called the Parasite. Both consumed the living and dead of their enemies to fuel their own growth.

She went on to say how the Master Chief, a Spartan-II who was as close to a living legend as the UNSC would ever get, fought his way into a crashed ship the Flood had used to make landfall on Earth to rescue something. What, Emily didn't know. She had been in another sector of the city, fending off Flood forms until Elites that had split off from the Covenant arrived and lent their aid.

That caught Scott off guard. Working with the Elites? It didn't seem possible.

'So then the UNSC regrouped as the Elites glassed whatever the Flood had spread to, burning it to pieces.' Emily finished, both their coffees now stone cold. 'Never thought I'd be glad to see them glassing the Earth.'

'Was the Flood that bad?' Scott asked.

'Yeah.' Emily said. 'It's difficult to see a Marine go from normal to warped in less than five. We lost ninety-five percent of our total force before the Elites came to the rescue.'

'What happened after the Elites showed up?' Scott asked, still trying to wrap his head around the concept. They had killed his parents and billions of others, turned the Outer Colonies to molten slag and came close to doing the same to the Inner Colonies. How could the UNSC just work alongside them in the short span of a few months?

'We organised our remaining forces to follow the Covenant Loyalists through the portal and finish them once and for all.' Emily said. 'Lord Hood scraped together two frigates, loaded them with Marines, ODSTs and the Chief, then sent them on their way with the Elites. That was a little over a month ago.'

'Why didn't you go with them?' Scott said. 'Wouldn't two Spartans be better than one?'

'They needed a Spartan back on Earth in case more Covenant or Flood showed up.' Emily said before shrugging. 'Neither one has so I'm simply making do. Then Johnson came along and asked if I wanted to be an S-IV.'

'He asked me, too.' Scott said. 'We'll be in the same squad alongside two ODSTs I worked with in the Mojave and Capital Wastelands. They're good.'

'Ah.' Emily said. 'I take you'll be squad leader?'

Scott nodded. 'Just like old times.'

Emily chuckled. 'And just like old times, are we going to be called Grey Team or something else?'

'We get to pick our squad's callsign?'

'Yeah.' Emily said. 'A new concept for the Spartan-IV program, something about giving the members more individuality and focusing less on them being living weapons. A few of the names I've seen are Crimson, Avalanche, Tower and Wolf, so it's up to you.'

'I think we'll stick with Grey.' Scott said after a moment's consideration. 'It's the name we've used since Lieutenant Ambrose selected us so I don't see any reason why we should change it.'

'Fair enough.' Emily said, standing. 'If we're going to stay as Grey Team, I might as well go meet the new members. Do you want to introduce me to them?'

**Spartan Pierce**_**,**_** interior of HIGHCOM Facility Bravo-6. 1544 Hours, December 21, 2552 (Military Calendar)**

'So you're the one the Commander used to work with.' Mitchell said as he let go of Emily's hand, craning his neck to meet her face. Neither he nor Joey had undergone their augmentations yet, leaving them a full foot shorter than her.

'I am.' Emily said. 'We were in the same squad for seven years.'

'How come you never told us about her?' Joey asked, glancing at Scott.

'You never asked.' Scott said.

'Fair enough.' Mitchell said. 'I'm Gunnery Sergeant Mitchell, formerly of the Helljumpers, and this is Private Perry but we call him Joey. If you're anything like the Commander, I'm sure this team is going to get along just fine.'

'I hope so, Gunny.' Scott said. 'When are you due to undergo your augmentations?'

'Tomorrow.' Mitchell said. 'Any words of advice for us?'

'It hurts.' Emily said. 'No matter what they tell you, it hurts like nothing you've ever felt before.'

Mitchell stared at Emily then looked to Scott who wore a neutral expression before clasping Joey on the shoulder tightly. 'Remind me to punch you for talking me into this, Private.'

'Sure thing, Gunny.' Joey said, wincing as Mitchell increased the pressure. 'Anytime.'

'We'll need to undergo the same augmentations, Scott.' Emily said as Joey tried to prise Mitchell's hand from his shoulder. 'Johnson says they'll bring us up to the Spartan-II standard.'

'Okay.' Scott said as Joey succeeded in his efforts, massaging the area once it was freed. 'What about our armour?'

'After the augmentations.' Emily said. 'We'll be given a choice of armour to select a variant that suits our skill sets.'

'Sounds like a plan.' Mitchell said, resting his hand on Joey's shoulder once more. 'A very painful plan.'

'I didn't know the augmentations would hurt!'Joey said as he flinched under Mitchell's grip.

'Gunny.' Scott said, staring pointedly at his hand.

Mitchell let go. 'I guess that's it, then.' He said. 'We'll see you two on the other side.'

He and Joey saluted then span on their heels, heading back to the quarters Johnson had put them in.

'So what do you think?' Scott asked Emily as they made for their rooms.

'A little rough around the edges.' Emily said. 'But then, so were we at one point. I think once we work together for a bit, we'll be fine. It's good to have Grey back up and running.'

Scott nodded in agreement. 'It is, isn't it?'

**Spartan Pierce**_**,**_** UNSC Training Facility 603. 0100 Hours, December 29, 2552 (Military Calendar)**

Scott crouched, motionless, peering from behind the thick tree cover at a distant fortification, partially disguised using camouflage nets and branches and further hidden by the darkness, built into the base of a cliff.

In his hands was a BR85HB SR, the new battle rifle model, adapted to fire tactical training rounds. They wouldn't kill anyone who got hit by them, just freeze their clothing into place by way of a special polymer that hardened nano-fibres woven into the training uniforms, simulating a bullet wound.

He and the rest of Fireteam Grey were participating in their first mission as a unit together, the four of them versus two entire platoons of Marines, seventy-two in total, to determine how well they were as a group.

They had been sent to the UNSC's largest wilderness training facility on Earth, a massive fifty square kilometres of untamed forests, streams and sheer cliff faces located in southern Russia, and issued with basic winter survival gear to carry out their mission: locate and capture an enemy stronghold without suffering a single casualty within three days.

So far, fifteen of the enemy team had been 'killed', patrols searching for them who had walked into ambushes, leaving fifty-seven behind.

He keyed his mike.

'Grey-One to Grey Team. Enemy stronghold in sight, three hundred metres west of my current position.' Scott said. 'Light guard. I count no more than five two-man patrols and five manning heavy machine guns. Alert level is down. Looks like they're focusing more on staying warm.'

'_Wouldn't mind something warm.' _Mitchell grumbled over the COM. '_Three days we've been freezing our asses off. Why can't we have our armour now?'_

'Because you'd come to rely on it too much.' Scott said, sweeping the camp. 'We rely on our heads, not our equipment. They protect us better.'

'_Well, our heads can't keep us warm while we're in this shithole.' _Mitchell said. '_Mine just keeps screaming at me to build a fire or something.'_

The temperature was well below freezing and snow covered most of the ground, making moving without leaving a trail difficult at best.

'It'll be warm inside the base, Gunny.' Scott said. 'Once we take out the sentries, we can begin phase two.'

'_Good.' _Mitchell said.

'Grey-Two, are you in position?' Scott asked as he practised moving from machine gun to machine gun, seeing how long it would take him to eliminate the gunners.

'_Almost, Grey-One.' _Emily said. She was somewhere to Scott's right.

'Grey-Three, Grey-Four.' Scott said. 'Status?'

'_Cold.' _Mitchell reported. _'But ready to go.'_

'_Ditto, Commander.' _Joey said. '_Waiting on your word.'_

Despite their inclusion into the Spartan-IV program and being the same rank as Scott, the two former Helljumpers still called him by his former Navy rank rather than his actual name. Scott shrugged mentally. Maybe it was an old habit. After all, he still called Mitchell Gunny sometimes.

Scott rested his crosshairs on the furthest machine gunner and wrapped his finger around the trigger.

'On my mark.' He said. 'Mark!'

Scott pulled the trigger, clipping the inattentive man in the side of the head and was moving to the next target before he had even fallen to the floor. The second man went down before the triple tap from Scott's first burst even registered, and the third was making for her gun when Scott put her down, too.

The fourth and fifth managed to man their weapons but only the fifth got a few shots off before Scott silenced them.

While this was happening, the rest of Grey had emerged from the tree line surrounding the enemy base and gunned down the roving sentries, sending them tumbling to the ground as the TTR froze their uniforms.

The three Spartans rushed to the entrances and threw grenades in, shying away from the doors as TTR paint exploded out of them, painting the snow crimson red.

Scott climbed down from the tree he was in and sprinted for the base, joining Emily as she prepared to breach the door.

He stood to one side of the doorway, rifle raised.

'Grey-One to Grey-Three, are you in position?' Scott radioed.

'_Yeah, but we've got a problem.'_

'What's the situation?'

'_Two blokes and a fuck-load of ammo.' _Mitchell said, swearing as he fired a sustained burst into the base. '_What do you reckon?'_

'Grenades.' Scott said. 'Try to get them behind any cover they're using or break flanks long enough for you and Grey-Four to move in.'

'_Got it.' _Mitchell said. '_Joey, grab a pineapple.' _There was a pause then, '_Hey, fellas! Here comes the hurt!'_

Scott and Emily tensed, getting ready to enter the base. There were still forty or so soldiers still alive, minus the ones taken out by the initial grenade blasts and Mitchell's follow up volley.

Twin blasts echoed from the other side of the base, bouncing off the cliff walls.

'_Entry way clear, Grey-One.' _Mitchell said. '_Grey-Three and –Four moving to engage.'_

'Acknowledged.' Scott said, nodding at Emily once. 'Grey-One and –Two entering.'

The two Spartans dove into the base, Scott high and Emily low, targeting any standing soldiers inside the corridor. It was dimly lit, the only illumination coming from bare bubs roughly set into concrete walls spaced every few metres, and devoid of any viable targets. Five men were lying on the floor, their uniforms covered in TTR and frozen in place.

Scott shot each one in the chest, just to be sure, then followed Emily as she pushed deeper into the complex, battle rifle held steady. They could hear the gunfire as Mitchell and Joey fought their way in and the counter-fire from the Marines as they tried to stop them. It would only take a single lucky shot to classify the mission as a failure. Even spatter could be enough to freeze their gear.

'Got a room coming up.' Emily said, jutting her head at a shut door on their right. 'Might be the main control room.'

Scott peered ahead of Emily, past the door, and saw that the corridor came to an abrupt end a few metres further on.

'Grey-Three, status?' he asked over the radio.

'_Twelve targets down.' _Mitchell said. '_No friendly casualties.'_

'Can you see a door?'

'_Yeah. Nothing else.'_

'Snake a fibre optic probe through.' Scott ordered as he pulled one of the thin cameras out of a pouch, activating the device. He crouched and fed the wire through a small crack running beneath the door, watching the screen intently. The picture was slightly fuzzy and the colour was grainy but other than that, the image being transmitted back was clear.

Beyond the door was a big room, easily large enough to hold seventy men if they packed themselves in. On one wall he saw five slits for machine guns to poke their barrels out of, on the other he saw rock face. Between them was living space filled with collapsible bunk-beds, portable generators hooked into the lights, camping stoves, computers and crates filled with enough supplies to last two whole platoons for a three day exercise. Dotted here and there were heaters, throwing out a comforting warmth that thawed out Scott.

He pumped his fist, getting the blood flowing into it again.

'I'm seeing twenty plus hostiles, Grey-Three.' Scott said, moving the probe with exaggerated slowness. 'Crouching behind crates, rifles trained on the doors. Say twelve guns on each.'

'_That's what we're seeing.' _Mitchell said. '_Flashbangs and grenades?'_

'Flashbangs and grenades.' Scott said. 'On my mark.'

He took out a flashbang while Emily pulled out a frag grenade, both holding them ready to throw.

'Flashbangs first.' Scott said as Emily positioned herself to kick the door down. 'Then frags. Follow them in and gun down anyone still alive.

'_Grey-Three to Grey-One, ready on this end.'_

Scott placed his finger on the flashbang's priming trigger. 'Three, two, one. Mark!'

Emily threw the door open with one swift kick, splintering the lock, then dived back into cover as a massed salvo of rounds came flying out the door. Scott waited for a momentary lull then threw the now primed explosive inside, shying away from the doorway as he covered his ears and closed his eyes.

The device detonated with a brilliant magnesium white bang and ear splitting bang that roiled through Scott and stunned the men and women inside, the effects doubled when Mitchell's exploded soon after.

Two more grenades, these ones filled with TTR, sailed into the midst of the soldiers, still recovering from the double flashbang attack, and exploded, covering everyone in seconds.

Once they detonated, the four Spartans moved into the room, guns firing at the Marines who were still standing, sending them tumbling to the floor where they joined their squadmates.

Scott lowered his weapon once the last Marine stopped moving.

'Enemy base secure.' He radioed over an open COM. 'Zero friendly casualties.'

'_Understood, Spartan.' _Johnson replied. '_Well done, Fireteam Grey.'_

The radio went dead as one Marine began groaning in pain, fighting against his frozen uniform to sit up.

Scott reached down and hoisted him up, dusting the NCO down.

'Two flashbangs?' the Marine grumbled. 'Really?'

'All's fair in love and war.' Mitchell said, patting him on the shoulder. 'And I do so love to throw two flashbangs in war.'

The rest of the Marines inside the base started to voice their complaints as the whine of an approaching Pelican cut through the air, announcing the arrival of the resuscitation team. Each of them carried a baton designed to soften the TTR hardened fibres, bring the 'dead' back to life.

Grey stood to one side as the teams bustled in through the doors, quickly moving from man to man, releasing them.

Johnson sauntered in after them, making a beeline for the Spartan team, a smile on his face.

'I think we won that one.' Mitchell said as the ONI agent stopped in front of them. 'Now can we please have our armour? My ass has frostbite.'


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: ****I don't own Left 4 Dead or Halo. They belong to Valve and Bungie/Microsoft/343 Industries respectively.**

Chapter Three

**Spartan Pierce**_**,**_** aboard UNSC Cruiser **_**Calm Before the Storm, **_**Slipstream space – unknown coordinates near Gabe Star System. 1900 Hours, February 12, 2553 (Military Calendar)**

'I'm telling you, something about this mission is off.' Mitchell said as he and Joey played off against each other in a game of Go Fish. 'Got any sevens?'

'Nope. Go fish.' Joey said. 'And of course something about this mission is off. They're sending four Spartans and a fully loaded cruiser to investigate a COM blackout. Any threes?'

Mitchell shook his head. 'Go fish.'

The four Spartans of Fireteam Grey were in their bunk room onboard the _Calm Before the Storm, _a Halcyon-class light cruiser brought out of retirement to bolster the badly mauled UNSC fleet, as it sped through slipspace to a remote colony none of them had ever heard about before, Hic Pilulas, that had ominously gone quiet amid conflicting reports of rioting and a full colony wide quarantine.

Scott had looked it up a few days ago, learning all he could about the far flung planet.

Settled a little over ten years ago, it sat right on the border between the Inner and Outer colonies and boasted an already immense population of ten million, a surprising number for a colony that was less than a decade old. It had one massive super continent surrounded on all sides by a saltwater ocean. Terraforming had been minimal and soon a bustling metropolis had sprung up around the planet's only orbital elevator, sending supplies and goods to waiting freighters.

Most of the information had been trivial and non-essential but what had caught Scott's eye was the location. Hic Pilulas was the closest UNSC world to the Elite homeworld of Sanghelios. Could the planet have fallen under attack by renegade Elites? But then, how would that explain the reports of rioting and quarantines?

'Maybe it's just a test.' Emily said from her bunk, hands clasped beneath her head as she stared up at the ceiling. 'I know we passed with flying colours in Russia but that was a preliminary training exercise to see how we'd adapted to our new augmentations.'

Which was true. Mitchell and Joey were now seven foot tall, towering over almost everyone else onboard the cruiser. They had quickly gotten used to their enhanced reflexes and muscles and had mastered using the MJOLNIR GEN2 armour, using the suit as though they had for years. Scott and Emily had been given similar augmentations on top of their existing ones, finally putting them on the same level as Spartan-IIs in terms of physical ability.

It had still hurt but they were better prepared for it this time.

'Doubtful.' Scott said. He was sat on his bunk, flicking through a condensed after action report of the Battle of Earth, learning all he could about the single most important battle in human history that he had missed. 'The UNSC wouldn't send an entire cruiser for a simple test. They need all the ships they can get to protect Earth. And they certainly wouldn't send it for a simple COM blackout. Mitchell's right. There's something off about this mission.'

'See?' Mitchell said as he placed a row of cards down on the table. 'I'm not the only one thinking that. Any queens?'

'Yeah.' Joey said, handing two cards over. 'Any nines?'

'Go fish.'

'So if it's not a COM blackout, what is it?' Emily asked. 'What could possibly require the attention of a cruiser full of Marines and ODSTs, plus a squad of Spartans?'

'That is the million credit question.' Mitchell said. 'Answer it, and you win a prize.' He laid all his remaining cards down. 'Pay up, Joey.'

Joey grumbled something under his breath and handed Mitchell a data chip, a copy of _Feet First: A Day in the Life of a Helljumper, _an action-drama film that followed a squad of ODSTs during the battle for a colony world under attack by the Covenant and the trials and difficulties they faced. He had won it from of the _Storm_'s Helljumper contingent in a game of poker, now lost to Mitchell after a game of Go Fish.

'It's got to be something bad.' Scott said as he put down the after action report. 'There are nearly fifteen-hundred soldiers onboard, all of them veterans, and us. What could possibly require that much firepower?'

'A Covie attack.' Joey said, tidying away the cards. 'A small one, mind you, or an Insurrectionist upheaval that needs a swift, small strike force to neutralise it.'

'Then why not send a prowler?' Emily countered. 'A cruiser has to be the most visible ship ever. A prowler would be able to get us in without alerting any Insurrection ships orbiting the planet. The only reason you send a cruiser with a boatload of combat veterans is because something bad has happened and it's got nothing to do with the Innies or the Covies.'

'Fair point.' Mitchell said. 'So if it's not an attack by the Covenant or the rebellion rearing its head, what can it be?' He pulled over two chairs and motioned for Scott and Emily to join him and Joey in a more formal discussion. 'Any ideas?'

'Let's start with what we know.' Scott said as he sat down, placing a data pad in the middle of the table. 'We know that Hic Pilulas is a remote colony, straddling the line between the Inner Colonies and the Outer Colonies, and the closest one to Sanghelios. The last reports from the planet mentioned widespread rioting and a planet wide Class-7 quarantine before everything stopped. There's a minor Marine presence, three battalions of light infantry and a single company of mechanised infantry, but a moderate ONI one. They have a major facility located somewhere in the city.

'We can guess that ONI knows the Covenant and the Insurrection are innocent parties because they only sent one ship, but the Marine complement suggests they know something bad has happened down there.' He continued, typing down everything as he spoke. 'What, we don't know.'

'Could be to do with a virus.' Joey said. 'Class-7 quarantines are only reserved for really bad viral outbreaks.'

'And the rioting?' Mitchell asked.

'Lack of supplies, maybe.' Emily said. 'When a Class-3 or higher quarantine is put into place, all space travel is suspended and food stores thought to contain traces of harmful biological agents are destroyed to prevent further spread. If a Class-7 has been declared, I'd guess that almost all the food has been burned and with no one tending to the fields, nothing is growing or being collected. Ten million people need to eat. Who's to say that they won't fight over the scraps?'

'If that were the case, why hasn't the UNSC dispatched a larger fleet? One with medical supplies and food?' Mitchell asked. 'Why send one cruiser?'

Scott considered the possible reasons, quickly eliminating them until only one remained.

'Because ONI was running a secret project there.' He said. 'Most likely some kind of new bio-weapon that managed to leak into the outer world which would explain the quarantine. As for the rioting, is could be because of supplies or maybe the colonists found out that ONI was behind it all and decided to exact some manner of revenge. We're being sent in to contain the outbreak or at least perform a precision strike to retrieve whatever data is left ahead of cleansing.'

He didn't need to say that by cleansing, the cruiser they were on would most likely drop a few Shiva nukes down on the colony, wiping everything clear in a storm of fire and radiation.

'That's a bit farfetched, Commander.' Mitchell said after several seconds of silence. 'I mean, it's plausible. God only knows what ONI does behind closed doors but that?' He shook his head. 'Doesn't seem likely.'

'This is the same organisation that sent a bunch of kids to die.' Joey whispered, glancing at Scott and Emily.

The two of them had come forward about the Spartan-III program and its goals, how it had selected and trained war orphans to carry out suicide missions against an alien juggernaut. It had shaken the two former ODSTs to know that their government had willingly traded nine-hundred children in an attempt to slow down the Covenant's assault on humanity.

'I know.' Mitchell said grimly. 'But for the sake of it, let's say you're right, Commander. Let's say ONI was developing some kind of new super bio-weapon on Hic Pilulas. The next question we need to be asking ourselves is, how did it get from their labs into the general public? I mean, they're going to take measures to keep it in the lab. Right?'

No one answered. They all knew that ONI was meticulous about everything. No detail was too small, no procedure too unnecessary. If they were creating a biological weapon, the amount of safety precautions to keep it contained would beggar belief, ranging from dozens of airlocks and disinfection chambers to pyrotechnics installed in the main labs, ready to ignite the moment a leak was detected. They would be foolproof.

That left two possible explanations. Someone had accidentally exposed it to the outside or it was done on purpose.

The implications of that possibility were beyond troubling.

'Christ.' Mitchell whispered. 'I don't want to even know the answer to that question.'

Scott nodded, typing up their suspicions so far then saved the document and shut the data pad down. 'It's only speculation and theories so far, Gunny.' He said. 'For all we know, ONI is as much in the dark as we are and sending a cruiser full of battle hardened Marines is a measured response. It's small enough that it doesn't put a drain on the Home Fleet and it's big enough to deal with any threats that are present at Hic Pilulas.'

'And if they aren't in the dark?'

Scott didn't answer, not knowing what he should say. If ONI was responsible for leaking a biological WMD on an unsuspecting populace, who could they go to with their evidence?

'_Spartan Fireteam Grey: report to the armour bay.' _The _Storm'_s AI, Lance, announced over the PA system. '_We will be transitioning to normal space in T-minus sixty minutes.'_

'Understood.' Scott said, standing. 'Guess we'll have an answer to our questions soon enough.'

**Spartan Pierce**_**,**_** aboard UNSC Cruiser **_**Calm Before the Storm, **_**Slipstream space – unknown coordinates near Gabe Star System. 2012 Hours, February 12, 2553 (Military Calendar)**

The armour bay on the _Storm _was very much a recent addition to the aging ship. It consisted of four separate bays, each of which were manned by half a dozen technicians who directed the four Spartans, clad in their MJOLNIR under-suits, to a different bay.

Scott stepped into his, watching as the machine began the process of attaching the external armour pieces to him. It started with his feet, then his forearms as he grabbed hold of two handles, watching as mechanical arms fitted the MJOLNIR armour to him.

He was rotated and tilted until he was nearly horizontal. Beneath Scott, two doors opened and the power pack for his armour rose up to meet him, clamping onto his back and linking with his chest's armour. The armour bay rotated him again back his original position and lowered his helmet, the protective headgear clicking into place as it sealed his suit and powered up.

The armour bay retracted its arms and Scott stepped out, now fully clad in the Warrior variant of the MJOLNIR GEN2, designed with agility and improved reflexes in mind. It was finished in a matte grey finish with an orange visor, as was everyone else's armour.

Emily had chosen the Recon set up in keeping with her exceptional skills as a scout while Joey had been issued the EOD variant due to his skills at setting up improvised explosives and disarming them. Mitchell, on the other hand, had no specific area in which he excelled or was particularly happy with, and as such was given slightly more freedom of choice in what armour he could have.

There were well over forty different armour configurations for the MJOLNIR GEN2, including the Mark V and VI from the original MJOLNIR armour series, but Mitchell had settled on the ODST variant because, as he had put it himself, he was Helljumper to the core.

'Takes some getting used, don't it?' Mitchell said over an open COM as he stepped out of his armour bay. 'Super strength, enhanced reflexes, and a shield. We were right to feel jealous of Spartans.'

Emily and Scott looked at each other, shaking their heads.

They had mixed feelings about the new Spartan program. Yes, there were more of them than ever before but the new recruits lacked the same commitment and drive as the Spartan-IIs and –IIIs, coming from all branches of the UNSC. They hadn't gone through years of hardship and loss from a young age, hadn't learned that being a Spartan meant putting other people's lives well ahead of their own.

More than a few of the Spartan-IVs they had met had simply become one due to the increased pay or to impress others. Very few had volunteered out of loyalty.

'Come on.' Scott said. 'Armoury next.'

He led Grey to the _Storm_'s weapon's locker, a room packed with a bewildering array of guns and explosives, where the quartermaster in charge of it handed over their weapons. Everyone but Scott was issued an MA5D, the latest in the MA5 series of assault rifles, while he took a BR85HB SR. They collected as much ammo as possible, stowing a few extra magazines alongside the food and medical supplies in their rucksacks.

Fully armoured and armed, the Spartans then made their way to the bridge.

It was spacious compared to other ships Scott had been on, easily containing thirty people in relative comfort, and possessed a huge domed viewport at the very front of the room. The dome struck the Spartan as an odd design feature. A single lucky missile strike or plasma torpedo would rupture it and vent the entire room into space, killing the command crew and disabling the ship.

The only thing he could see through it was the black void of slipspace.

Stood in front of the bridge's tactical map was the Captain of the _Storm, _a diminutive man by the name of Jones who spoke in a high and nasal voice. He didn't turn around as the Spartans stopped behind him and came to attention.

'Captain Jones, sir.' Scott said.

'Fireteam Grey.' Jones said, studying the information on the screen before him intently. It showed the ship's status, ranging from structural integrity to atmospheric levels. Eventually, he turned around, slowly, and looked at the four soldiers with a barely disguised expression of contempt. Scott guessed he disapproved of Spartans. 'We'll be dropping out of Slipspace in forty minutes. The moment we do and close in on Hic Pilulas, you'll be sent via Pelican to the orbital elevator. From there, you're to descend to the city and find out what the hell happened there. I suggest looking around the ONI facility.'

'Yes, sir.' Scott said.

'Dismissed.' Jones said, returning to the tactical display screen.

'Well, he's a charmer.' Mitchell said over a private COM as Grey headed for the hangar.

'Not everyone thinks highly of Spartans.' Emily said. 'Some people view us as freaks because of the training and augmentations. I remember meeting one ODST Major who had a particular dislike of Spartans by the name of Silva. Did either of you know him?'

Mitchell and Joey shook their heads.

'Served under a lot of officers as a Helljumper.' Mitchell said. 'Never learned all their names, forgotten most of the ones I did bother to learn.'

'And I took my orders from the Gunny.' Joey said. 'I didn't have much interaction with the brass, ODST or otherwise.'

'Well, expect some animosity from others.' Scott said as the entered one of the _Storm_'s cavernous hangars and made for a waiting Pelican dropship. 'It might not come from everyone but I can assure you that there are people like Captain Jones out there and they can be vocal about their feelings.'

'Why didn't you mention this before?' Mitchell asked as they took their seats in the Pelican's troop bay.

'You never asked.' Scott said. 'And I would have thought that being former ODSTs, you would know from personal experience the kind of animosity Marines can hold against us.'

'Right.' Mitchell strapped himself in besides Joey. 'Private, the next time you talk me into anything, I'm going to make sure that I know exactly what I'm signing up for before saying anything.'

'Sure thing, Gunny.' Joey said.

Grey secured their gear and settled down, waiting for the ship to drop out of Slipspace back into normal space, their minds flicking back to the discussion they had earlier. Would they find a natural pandemic down there, or an ONI operation gone wrong?

**Spartan Pierce**_**,**_** aboard Pelican Echo 129, en route to Conagher Orbital Elevator. 2105 Hours, February 12, 2553 (Military Calendar)**

The Pelican drifted closer to the space tether, using gentle puffs from its thrusters to slow its velocity in the vacuum of space.

'Looks like she's locked down.' The pilot said from the cockpit as Grey undid their restraints. 'No warning lights on and I can't pick up the dockmaster AI. Must be a power outage.'

That was bad. The orbital elevator was a quick and cheap means of transporting goods to and from the planet's surface, extending thousands of kilometres above the planet and into space. If the power was out and the AI controlling the facility was offline, then the problem planetside was worse than they'd previously thought.

'Understood, pilot.' Scott said. 'Get us in as close as you can to one of the airlocks. We'll either force our way in or blow the doors.' He turned to Grey. 'Grab a thruster pack. Joey, take some explosives as well.'

They nodded and reached for the packs, essential for manoeuvring in zero-G where the slightest of motions could send you spinning.

The pilot sealed the cockpit and the four Spartans felt the Pelican slow further and start a spin before that came to a stop.

'_Venting the air.' _The pilot said.

Grey stood and waited behind the rear hatch as a faint hiss sounded throughout the compartment as it was emptied of air until a deathly silence replaced it.

A green light came on above the rear hatch as it opened, noiselessly, to reveal the outer hull of the Conagher Orbital Elevator barely a kilometre away. It shone a dull grey in the light of the system's sole star.

Scott flashed a green light and jumped from the back of the Pelican into space, using the smallest of puffs from his thruster pack to propel him towards the elevator. His motion tracker showed the rest of Grey follow him, staying in a loose column.

'In space, no one can hear you scream.' Mitchell said over TEAMCOM.

'What?' Scott asked. He wanted to look over his shoulder at Mitchell but the motion would have sent him spinning. While his thruster pack could compensate, he wanted to use it as little as possible.

'Something from an ancient film my dad showed me when I was a kid.' He said. 'Involved ugly aliens that looked a lot like Elites, only these ones burst from your chest rather than glass planets.'

'I think I saw that one.' Joey said. 'Didn't it get a reboot in 2250?

'Nah, that was that English spy series.' Mitchell said. 'Jim Bondage or something. License to kill.'

'Oh yeah.' Joey said.

'Focus.' Scott said as they closed in on one of the airlocks. He used a series of short bursts to arrest his momentum, coming to a halt next to the door. The rest of his team arrived, tethering themselves to the hull as he looked for a way in. There was no control panel or no override handle, and the AI in charge of balancing the facility was offline.

'Blow it.' Scott said, unclipping himself from the elevator.

'You got it.' Joey said, pulling himself closer to the door. Using slow movements, he pulled out and set several bricks of C-12 onto the airlock's outer surface, priming the detonators.

When they were set, Grey moved away from the devices and braced ahead of the detonation.

'Stubborn airlock removal method number 12 in three seconds. Two seconds. One.' Joey sent the activation signal, detonating the bricks of C-12 he had set up.

The airlocks doors were blown inside the station then came flying back out again, accompanied by a gale of air as it rushed out of the pressurised interior into the vacuum outside. It lasted for a few seconds then slowly petered out.

'Door's open.' Joey said.

**Spartan Pierce**_**,**_** inside Conagher Orbital Elevator. 2119 Hours, February 12, 2553 (Military Calendar)**

Climbing into the corridor beyond the airlock, Grey found the inner pressure door had slammed shut the moment the airlocks were blown out. They had to force them open using a manual override and close them again to allow the air pressure in the corridor to equalise again, disengaging the next set of doors that had slammed shut the moment the override was triggered.

Once they were open, their mission began.

Inside the elevator's station, they found no signs of life.

The few screens that were on displayed only static and error messages, while the usual lights had been replaced by the sickly green emergency backups which provided just enough light to navigate the corridors by but not enough to make any proper detail out. Covering most surfaces was a layer of frost. The internal temperature was just above freezing.

'Jeez.' Mitchell said, running his hand over a particularly thick patch of ice. 'How long has this been here?'

'Not too long, Gunny.' Scott said. 'The air temp is still above freezing. I'd say the station's heaters cut out around three weeks ago.'

'Three weeks?' Mitchell murmured. 'I thought space was as cold as Joey's ex-girlfriend's bed.'

'Hey!' Joey said.

'It takes a long while for heat to be lost by spacecraft.' Scott said. 'The vacuum prevents convection and radiating that heat takes time. Most ships are designed to get rid of the heat the engines produce but because this takes in power from the ground and solar panels, that's not as much of a concern. Given a little more time, the temperature will drop down to absolute zero, something around -270 degrees Celsius.'

'Dammit. The movies lied to me.' Mitchell said.

They pressed on, passing by more dead screens and abandoned luggage, towards the central strand where, hopefully, a car would be docked.

'How come we didn't see any ships orbiting the planet?' Joey asked after several minutes of silence.

'What do you mean?' Emily asked back.

'There's usually a whole fleet of ships, freighters mostly, in orbit around any planet.' Joey said. 'Supply ships, passenger liners. Even warships. But we didn't see anything like that outside just now. Just empty space. I'm just wondering where they all went and why.'

'He has a point.' Mitchell said. 'Colony of ten million? That's a lot of ships.'

'Maybe the DCS had them all grounded.' Emily said. 'A Class-7 quarantine requires all shipping to and from the planet to cease immediately to prevent the spread of any biological agents.'

'There would still be ships over the planet.' Scott countered. 'Some are too heavy for their engines to achieve escape velocity. Touching down would be the same as being scrapped so the only thing for them to do would be either dock with the orbital elevator or remain in a stable orbit.'

'Why not just slip to an uninfected planet?' Joey asked.

'Quarantine procedures don't allow ships which took on passengers from the planet to leave. They have to stay in that system, pending the arrival of medical teams to check everyone and give them the all clear.' Scott forced open a stuck door, straining slightly, then stepped through when the gap was wide enough. 'Joey makes a very good point. Why aren't we seeing ships?'

'Maybe ONI had a hand in that.' Mitchell said after a second to think. 'I mean, I'm just speaking hypothetically here. Say we were right about them building a bio-weapon here and that everything that happened on Pilulas was orchestrated by them. They'd worry about the virus or whatever it is spreading to the rest of the colonies. So how do you stop it from doing that?

'You impose some kind of travel restriction.' He continued. 'You let ships leave but you don't allow any new ones in. Then, when there are no more civilian ships and the only ones left are the ones you alone control, then you set of the weapon. That way, it doesn't spread anywhere else.'

It sounded plausible. ONI would certainly have the jurisdiction to impose a travel ban on all ships heading to the Gabe system, leading to an eventual decrease in the number of ships. There was only one snag Scott could see with it.

'How would you explain away the sudden lack of traffic?' he asked, looking at Mitchell. 'Hic Pilulas attracts a good deal of commerce trading. People are going to notice when it stops coming in.'

'No idea, Commander.' Mitchell said. 'I'm a ground pounder, not a spook. They probably had dozens of guys working on a reasonable explanation.'

They entered a large atrium, the central hub of the station where the Welcome Wagons took on and offloaded their passengers. Red lights were glowing above all the airlocks.

Scott moved to one of the many terminals, tapping the space bar to try and wake it up. There was an ominous whir and hum, then a click, and the screen came to life.

'Got a working terminal.' He said as it went through the start-up cycle, eventually displaying a help screen offering basic information about the station. Scott tapped on one icon, only to find that the whole station was offline due to the quarantine. No cars were allowed to move until it was lifted.

'Can we override it?' Joey asked as Grey crowded around the terminal.

'Yes.' Scott said, pulling out his data pad. He typed in a series of commands, wirelessly connecting to the station's network, then inputted a code that would allow the Spartan team full access to all the systems. The red lights flickered to green as the code was accepted and the airlocks opened, giving them the opportunity to enter the Welcome Wagons.

'Leave your thruster packs here.' Scott ordered, dumping his pack on the floor. 'They'll only be dead weight on the planet.'

The rest of Grey disengaged their thruster packs, letting them fall to the floor with a dull clang, then followed Scott into the nearest Welcome Wagon. He typed in a command to start the descent then climbed into one of the many seats lining the inside of the car, clamping the restraints into place.

An alarm sounded as the airlock doors slid shut with a definitive clang and the car began its hour long descent to the capital of Hic Pilulas.

'So.' Joey said as weightlessness tugged at the four Spartans. 'What do you think we'll find down there? A massive accident or an ONI op gone wrong?'

No one said anything, not wanting to answer or dwell on the implications if their speculations came true. They just sat in silence as they rode the wagon to the surface, trying to get as much rest as they could before the airlock would open and plunge them into the world beyond.


	4. Chapter 4

**AN: ****I don't own Left 4 Dead or Halo. They belong to Valve and Bungie/Microsoft/343 Industries respectively.**

Chapter Four

**Spartan Pierce**_**,**_** interior of Conagher Orbital Elevator base station. 2239 Hours, February 12, 2553 (Military Calendar)**

The inside of the elevator's anchor point wasn't in good shape. Abandoned luggage was strewn everywhere, interspersed with upended crates empty of their contents. Any lights that remained on were operating on emergency power only, casting that same sickly green glow over everything.

There was no sign of life anywhere.

Scott gripped his battle rifle tightly, leading Grey towards the main entrance.

'Jesus.' Joey whispered. 'What happened down here?'

'Something bad.' Mitchell said. His assault rifle swung in lazy arcs, the torch mounted underneath the barrel on and illuminating whatever it swept over.

'We haven't seen the rest of the city.' Scott said but somehow, he knew it was only going to get worse. Everything they saw pointed to a mass exodus of some kind but to where was a mystery. He had checked the elevator's records and news archives on the journey down, comparing the dates.

According to the manifest, the last shuttle service for civilians had been a week before the first mention of an infection in the news. When Scott tried to look into why the elevator had been closed to civilians, he was met by a classification order from ONI, the information he wanted classified.

He came back to his original query of where everyone would have gone. The elevator was closed and locked down tight, meaning they couldn't have ascended it, and the area surrounding Hic Pilulas' only city was mountainous, not exactly the most forgiving terrain to flee to for an inexperienced and panicked civilian.

Only a few would have fled into the wilderness with the majority of the city's ten million remaining inside its borders, staying close to the assumed safety of their homes.

'No, but all of this doesn't exactly fill me with hope.' Mitchell said, kicking an empty crate away, the clasps keeping the lid on broken. The noise seemed overly loud in the atrium with just four Spartans inside. 'We've not seen anything that points to people being here. The city didn't even have any lights on.'

Which was true. The Welcome Wagon they had ridden to the surface possessed a window for the inhabitants to watch Hic Pilulas' only city, Grannus, draw closer. Grey hadn't seen lights on any of the buildings though a low, dense cloud cover had limited their view and a heavy downpour further hampered it once they broke through.

'We'll find some kind of sign.' Scott said.

They descended a bank of escalators, motionless, and entered the main lobby of the elevator's base. More luggage greeted them.

A brief bolt of lightning illuminated the room, casting long shadows. Thunder soon followed.

The four Spartans pressed on to the entrance, noting with worry that the glass in the doors had been smashed with blood staining a few pieces. They kept their guns close by and exited the base station, entering Grannus proper.

**Spartan Pierce**_**,**_** city of Grannus. 2258 Hours, February 12, 2553 (Military Calendar)**

Outside they found cars, many of them wrecked and burnt out, littering the streets. The rain was coming down hard, reducing visibility to a few hundred metres, and the constant pitter-patter made listening out for unusual sounds difficult.

'Kind of spooky.' Joey said as they headed down the street towards the ONI facility, some distance away. 'Just us four in the dark, being hammered by rain, surrounded by crashed cars and empty buildings. Not what I'm used to.'

'Just keep your finger on the trigger and head on a swivel.' Emily said, taking point. She looked up at the buildings lining the street, looming over them in the darkness. 'Does this remind you of anything, Scott?'

He glanced at the buildings as well, casting his mind back over the missions they had done together, but drew a blank. 'No. Was it a training exercise we did on Onyx?'

Emily shook her head. 'It was a counter-Insurrection op we did back on Reach, remember? There was you, me and Michael working with another Spartan. I think her tag was A196.'

'And how does all this remind you of that op?' Scott asked. He could vaguely recall carrying out a mission on Reach, the UNSC's primary shipbuilding yard before the Covenant had wiped it out, but didn't see how it was relevant.

'We had to check out an abandoned town north of New Alexandria that ONI suspected was a training camp.' Emily said. 'We infiltrated during heavy rain while A196 provided sniper cover.'

Scott nodded, the details coming back. 'There wasn't any Insurrection presence. Just scraps left over from when they pulled out.'

'Atmosphere is the same.' Emily said. 'Looming, empty buildings and reduced visibility.'

'But this isn't some abandoned town.' Joey said. 'There should be ten million people living here.'

'Which makes it all the more creepy.' Mitchell said. 'I mean, where did they all go?'

'That's what we're here to find out, Gunny.' Scott said. He swept his battle rifle over the route ahead, using the scope to check for threats or clues as to what happened but all he saw were more destroyed vehicles. No, that wasn't quite right. A flash of lightning cast enough light for him to spot a bit of graffiti on a wall ahead.

'Might have something.' He said. 'Graffiti on the wall on our right, one hundred metres ahead.'

'We're checking out something a kid wrote with a spray can?' Mitchell said.

'Yes.' Scott said. 'Call it a gut feeling.'

The two ODSTs said nothing but Emily flashed her acknowledgement light. Both Spartan-IIIs had been taught long ago to listen to their instincts and they had served them well.

Up close, they saw it wasn't just one piece of graffiti but a whole bunch, each proclaiming a different message.

'Beware the Witch.' Joey murmured, reading one of them. 'What do you think that means?'

'That we're in danger of being turned into frogs?' Mitchell answered. 'Listen to this one: Not a Flu.' He turned to the younger soldier. 'Magical beings and viruses masquerading as others. This is a promising lead to the mission.'

'It's something.' Scott said, scanning the rest of the scrawled messages. He glanced at his mission clock, noting the lateness. 'Gunny, can you and Joey find somewhere for us to bed down for the night? I want to wait until dawn to head to the ONI facility.'

'You got it, Commander.' Mitchell said, leading Joey further down the road towards a series of buildings.

Scott turned back to the messages though with some of them, he felt warning would be a more appropriate term.

'Where's help?' Emily read, clicking on her helmet's lights. 'It keeps mutating.'

Scott turned his lights on, too, and scanned the wall. 'The Marines are all gone. We're screwed.' He glanced at Emily. 'If this was just a viral outbreak, why would they worry about the Marines being gone?'

'I don't know.' She murmured. 'Look at this one: All the strongholds except Vyrant Tower are gone. Mary, if you're still alive go there. It's supposed to be fortified against them. Joe.'

'Who or what are them?' Scott asked.

Emily shrugged.

They continued reading the messages, growing more unsettled with each.

_Shoot the fat ones from a distant. Their gunk attracts others._

_Watch the roofs for movement. They pounce on you from there._

_Listen out for coughing. Those ones have long tongues._

_Don't stop when you see the big ones. Run _and_ shoot._ This one had additional comments, asking for clarification on whether the author meant one with two massive arms or just one. Beneath, another had simply written _Both_.

Scott and Emily looked at each then went back to the wall.

_They're set off by light and noise. Avoid both._

_Are they human anymore?_

_Not human. Infected._

The two Spartans read over the last three items several times, particularly the last one.

_Not human. Infected._

'What does that mean?' Emily whispered.

'I don't know.' Scott said. 'I'm not sure I even want to know.' He looked around and spotted an information centre set into the wall, its screen flickering on and off.

It came to life as Scott tapped the display, shielding it from the rain with his body as Emily stood guard, assault rifle at the ready.

'Let's see what the news feeds have to say.' Scott said as he began manipulating the menu to bring up the archived news reports. While he had looked some over on the Welcome Wagon, they only went back to before the quarantine was enacted. When the shuttle services had been terminated, the link to local databases had ceased as well, depriving the Spartans of an accurate view of what had happened. The last report detailed a growing number of hospital admissions, nothing else.

The machine complied with his requests and brought up a thumbnail selection of archived reports. Scott selected the report dated just after the one he had viewed on the way down. It didn't tell him anything new, just that alongside the hospital admissions there was a slight increase in deaths.

He selected another.

'_The death toll continues to rise across Grannus, leading many to doubt that the virus many are dubbing the New Flu has been properly contained, despite the UNSC's claims, fuelling civil unrest. Already the Marines have been deployed to quell rioting in several parts of the city, stretching their position thin as many have come down with New Flu. In other news, the recent rise in violent, and often horrific, murders continues to escalate with police becoming swamped under emergency calls from victims as their attackers force their way in. Evidence at the scenes suggest that the murderers use only their hands and feet, while a small but growing number include strangulation, clawing, and what can only be described as acid burns in some cases._

'_Police are baffled as to the motives behind these attacks with victims coming from all walks of life. A common theme amongst them is that they carried strains of the New Flu but lacked outward symptoms.'_

Scott closed the report down and opened another, more recent one.

'_It has now been two weeks since the first cases of New Flu began appearing and in that time, a near state of panic has gripped the streets of Grannus as officials yesterday announced a Class-7 Quarantine over the planet though many claim that it happened much too late. As much as fifty percent of the population have now been infected by the New Flu with claims of increased violence, almost animalistic in nature, being widespread, as are eyewitness accounts of so called 'Special Infected' who display traits unlike those around them. One witness claimed to see a middle aged man sprout an incredibly long tongue from his mouth and use it to grab another person some distance away, only to release them once a nearby Marine shot at him, leaving behind a cloud of smoke._

'_Another witness managed to record an incident where a severely bloated individual appeared to explode, leaving behind a thick and viscous goo that, according to the owner of the video, 'smelled like someone had taken a Grunt and left it to rot in a pile of crap'. Authorities at this time are baffled as to the cause of these special infected but are confident that it is not the work of the virus.'_

Scott's finger hovered over the last report, not quite touching the icon. He shook his head and pressed it, opening the final news report ever recorded on Hic Pilulas.

'_This is an emergency broadcast to all remaining survivors who have not yet been infected. They are to head to any of the safe zones set up by the remaining Marine personnel in the south of the city in the financial district. You are advised to take only what you can carry and avoid going back for others. Infected still roam the street and will attack at the slightest provocation. Do not, repeat, DO NOT, shine any lights or make any loud noises. Silence is your ally._

'_Efforts are being made to reach HIGHCOM on Earth and warn them of the outbreak, and anyone with knowledge of long range communication systems is requested to head to Vyrant Tower where a team is being put together to reach the COM relay on top of the Conagher Orbital Elevator._

'_Avoid anyone you see on the street, especially if they appear ill of posses a sickly pallor. And do not stop for anyone you hear crying._

'_Good luck and God Bless.'_

The report finished and minimised, showing the thumbnail icons once more, as Scott backed away from the information centre, drawing his battle rifle.

'Trouble?' Emily said, her own gun shouldered.

'Yes.' Scott said. 'Joey, Mitchell, SITREP.'

'_All calm and quiet here, Commander.' _Mitchell said over TEAMCOM. '_Just us, the rain, and fuck all else.'_

'Have you located a space for us?'

'_Negative. Everything is locked down tight.'_

Joey joined the channel at this point, saying, '_Hey, I see a bunch of people ahead. Maybe six or seven of them.'_

'_Yeah, I see them too.' _Mitchell said. '_They look kind of sick.'_

'Do not approach, Grey-Three.' Scott ordered, motioning for Emily to follow him. 'Turn off all lights and back away quietly. Repeat, stay away.'

'_What? Why?'_

'They might be infected with whatever triggered the quarantine.' Scott said as he and Emily began jogging towards Mitchell's position. 'Bright lights and noises cause aggressive behaviour in them. I'll explain when we're somewhere secure.'

'_You mean, walk away from six people who are sick and out in the rain?' _Mitchell said. '_People who might be able to tell us what's happened down here?'_

'Gunny, I ordering you to walk away.' Scott said. He saw Mitchell and Joey further ahead and moved to a nearby car, using it as cover and a firing platform. 'Move away from them and come to me and Grey-Two. Do not make a sound and do not shine your light. Is that understood?'

There was silence for the briefest of moments before Scott saw Mitchell and Joey start to move away from the six people, their lights going off.

'_You'd better have a good reason, Commander.' _Mitchell said.

'I do.' Scott said. He shifted his aim from the two Spartans to the huddle of people. They were just standing about in the middle of the road, dressed in soaked rags. He saw various wounds on them, including bite and claw marks, but no obvious weapons.

Another flash of lightning momentarily bathed the street in a brilliant white light and Scott's faceplate polarised to preserve his night vision automatically.

But in that same instance, the six people Joey had seen suddenly became animated and lock their gazes on the two retreating figures, letting loose a cry that had more in common with a pained animal than a human then gave chase, sprinting towards the two.

'Gunny!' Scott yelled, resting his crosshairs on the lead person but kept his trigger finger still. They were still civilians. 'Behind you.'

Mitchell and Joey span around to face the incoming threats, assault rifles raised, only to experience the same hesitation Scott had gone through.

It didn't last.

The first person reached Joey and tried to punch him. Joey responded by jumping backwards and planting his foot firmly on their chest, kicking them back several feet.

As he did, two made for Mitchell and simultaneously tried to grab hold of him. Unlike Joey, the veteran ODST dropped his assault rifle and grabbed their heads, one in each hand, and slammed them together with such force that their skulls seemed to simply cave in to nothing.

Scott refocused his scope on the remaining people but his view was blocked by Joey as he moved to engage the woman he had kicked away, firing a brief burst from his assault rifle at her feet. It didn't deter her and he ended up placing a triple tap into her chest.

She went down and the rest followed suite soon after as Mitchell and Joey trained their guns on the remainder of the group.

Once the last body fell and the last brass casing fell to the floor, Grey regrouped in the porch to a store that had its shutters clamped down tight.

'Okay, what the hell was all that?' Mitchell asked, pointing back at the corpses.

Scott didn't answer, simply transferring the news reports he had listened to over to Mitchell and Joey. They listened, mute, as the anchor spoke and when Emily and Scott relayed the rest of the messages written on the wall.

'Zombie apocalypse.' Joey said after several seconds of silence. 'Or infected human apocalypse.'

Mitchell looked at him. 'Say what, private?'

'You know, like that film from the twenty-first century. My dad showed it me before I shipped out for basic.' Joey said, staring off into space as he tried to recall the movie's name. '28 something. Can't remember if it was days or weeks later but the premise of the film was that instead of the usual zombie uprising, it was humans who had been infected with this rabies virus or something that made them batshit crazy and attack everyone doing all the killing. That New Flu could be the virus that mutates them into mindless killing machines.'

'It certainly fits.' Emily said. 'The violence began to grow soon after the first cases of New Flu started appearing and judging from what the wall said, the infected aren't considered human anymore.'

'So what are we going to do?' Mitchell asked. 'The ONI facility is way to the east of here but Vyrant Tower is south and the same distance. We could be at either inside of a few hours.'

'Vyrant.' Scott said. 'We need to know more about what happened down here. There were several references to it being a safe area from the,' He searched for the right word, hesitant to describe the infected as infected, but couldn't find a good enough term. 'infected. If it's overrun, we'll scavenge what we can and head for the ONI facility. If it isn't, we'll speak with the people there instead. Understood?'

Grey nodded.

Scott glanced up and down the street then up at the clouds above. The rain was still coming down and rivers ran along the street, the drains that normally kept the water off the road clogged with all manner of debris. If he listened hard enough, boosting his armour's sound receptors, Scott could hear the faint screams and cries of the infected.

Not wanting to traverse Grannus in the dark and rain, he turned to the door of the store.

'Break it open.' He ordered. 'We'll bed down for the night until dawn comes then head out.'

Joey and Mitchell flashed green lights and used their augmented strength to force the shutter covering the door open then ducked inside, pistols raised, flashing their lights again to let Scott and Emily know it was safe to come in.

They joined the former ODSTs in an upstairs room which, worryingly, was smeared with dried blood and shreds of clothing. The room's sole window was smashed but the shutter was in place and offered some protection from a would-be intruder, just not the rain as it would blow in with a particularly strong gust of wind.

Grey got as comfortable as they could and settled down for the night with Emily taking the first watch, sat in a corner where she could watch the window and door simultaneously.


	5. Chapter 5

**AN: ****I don't own Left 4 Dead or Halo. They belong to Valve and Bungie/Microsoft/343 Industries respectively.**

Chapter Five

**Spartan Pierce**_**,**_** city of Grannus, residential sector. 0730 Hours, February 13, 2553 (Military Calendar)**

Dawn brought with it a slight brightening of the sky and little else. The rain continued to pour down and hamper Grey's visibility while lightning flickered across the sky and occasionally shot down to the ground. With each bolt there was an accompanying rumble of thunder.

The Spartan team emerged from the shop and quickly orientated themselves on the Vyrant Tower to the south, some distance away. Last night had been awash in terms of sleep gained. Grey had managed to get a few hours but between the thunder and screams from the infected, they had been constantly waking up, training and wariness classifying the noises as trouble and rousing their half asleep bodies into action.

But, with the sky a little brighter, they gathered up their things and began the trek to Vyrant.

'So, what's our ROE if we come across more people?' Mitchell asked.

'Maintain rigger discipline. Self defence only.' Scott said. 'Infected or not, they're still civilians. If a cure can be made then there's a chance that they can be saved.'

'Big if.' Mitchell said.

They set off in a loose column, Emily at the front and Joey at the back, picking their way through the street. Cars lined both sides of the road, some with intact windscreens and some without. Grey saw the occasional splash of blood in a few of the interiors, the upholstery clawed and ripped. Any other blood had been washed away by the rain.

A deathly silence hung over the city, broken only by the falling rain and rumble of thunder. There were no human noises, no honking horns from irate drivers or the hum from a MagLev train as they wound their way around Grannus. Nothing.

The four Spartans walking down one of the many streets may well have been the only living, non-infected people for miles, if not on the entire planet.

'Ten million people.' Joey said quietly as they came across a park littered with refuse and the remains of some decorations. Upon closer inspect they were revealed to be in celebration of the New Year. 'Kind of hard to imagine that so many could die in so little time. What was it, three weeks between the first cases of New Flu and the evacuation order?'

'Yes.' Scott said.

Grey angled towards a half-collapsed marquee and peered inside. One of the support poles had fallen over, taking half the massive tent down with it, and crushed a grotto left over from Christmas.

'Jesus.' Joey whispered. 'How many do you think survived?'

'No idea.' Mitchell said as they left the tent and carried on. 'They had some strongholds set up in the financial district. Could have gotten a fair number in them. Only question is how long their supplies would last.'

'Some have fallen I think.' Scott said, recalling Joe's message to Mary. 'And we don't know for certain if Vyrant Tower is untouched. It's been a while since the emergency broadcast was sent to the survivors. Anything could have happened.'

'Well if Vyrant has fallen, we'll make for the ONI site and get what we came for.' Emily said. She swept her rifle across the rooftops then lowered it, happy.

A few blocks later, Grey came across a semi-fortified shop front that had been the victim of an attack. Boards covering the windows had been torn down or smashed and the front door was nowhere in sight. Whether this was the work of the infected or just hungry survivors looking for a scrap of food remained to be seen.

The Spartans entered and spread out, clearing each of the rooms before regrouping outside a locked door on the upper floor. Every other room had been filled with crates of food and ammo, their contents emptied, suggesting regular humans had been behind the attack.

Scott reached for the open button but it was dark, powered off. He redirected his hand and prised open the door to reveal a single corpse clutching a pistol in one hand, gaping wound in the side of his head.

On all the walls were messages and declarations, some written in pen, others scratched into the brickwork, and a few written in blood.

_We're cut off. The other Colonies are dark. This is the end._

_Repent! The end is nigh!_

_No one is safe. We're all dead. _That one was written more than once and in varying sizes.

_The Apocalypse is upon us. The four Horsemen have arrived. ONI has proclaimed their rule over us all, the rabble fight in the street, crops are burned to prevent the 'infection' and death looms over this city like a shroud. _

'Cheery.' Mitchell said as he read over the words. 'It's the end of the world as we know it.'

'Did this guy really think the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse were coming to Hic Pilulas?' Joey asked as Scott crouched by the body, prising the pistol from the man's hands.

'Apparently.' Mitchell said. 'Looks like he got four Spartans instead.' He looked off into the distance, thinking. 'And seeing as how we're in a possible zombie apocalypse, wouldn't that make us the Four Spartans of the Apocalypse? Or Post-Apocalypse?'

'That sounds more like the name for a story than impending doom.' Joey said. 'Four Spartans, pitting their wits and training against the end of the world. Might be an idea for when we get back to the _Storm_.'

'Nah, too cheesy sounding.' Mitchell said as Scott discarded the gun. 'Bad play on words. Besides, what apocalypse would you put the story in? Asteroid impact? Economic collapse and downfall of society? Nuclear winter?'

Grey left the store and resumed their southward journey.

'Nuclear winter might not be so bad.' Joey said. The rain hadn't let up and the Spartans sloshed through a deep puddle that had sprung up around a blocked drain. 'A group of Spartan-IVs, left behind on a world torn apart by the Insurrection with nukes, turned mercenaries to pay for food and supplies. We plan this thing just right, make sure the characters have enough laws to be human rather than superhuman, and have an engaging plot, it could be a best seller.'

'Why Spartan-IVs?' Emily asked. 'Why not Spartan-IIs or –IIIs?'

'Doubtful we'd be able to pull it off.' Mitchell told her. 'You guys are pure soldier. Emotional control, stoic professionalism, do the job. And I don't mean any offence when I say this but I've hardly ever seen you guys joke around non-Spartans or even with me and Joey. It's like you're always on the job.'

'So we wouldn't be as entertaining.' Scott summed up.

'Yeah, I guess.' Mitchell said. He paused, searching for the right words, then added, 'With you two, it's the mission, nothing else. I mean, I've never been privy to Spartan radio chatter before so I don't know if you guys have your own jokes or anecdotes, but judging from the time we worked together in the Capital Wasteland and the Mojave, I don't think I ever heard you say a single joke, Commander.'

'Yeah, and you stayed on the edges of Alpha Squad when we weren't fighting.' Joey said. They skirted around another puddle, this one containing the bloated corpse of a young woman, and began weaving in and out of a mass of parked cars. 'You were there but you weren't there.'

Mitchell nodded. 'You hardly participated in Alpha's conversations, too.'

'They were your men.' Scott said. 'I was an outsider and a Spartan as well. I didn't want to feel like I was intruding.'

'Fair enough.' Mitchell said. 'But you could have loosened up a bit, made an effort. We were all soldiers.'

'Would you have felt comfortable if you were placed into an all Spartan team with a superior rank and tactical command?' Scott countered.

Another body, this one of a seven year old girl. She was dressed in the tattered remains of some pink pyjamas, a sodden teddy bear still clutched in her hands. Grey couldn't see any obvious wounds that suggested how she had died, but the presence of a wafer thin blanket and the fact that the girl was hugging her knees pointed to her dying from hypothermia.

They quickly moved on.

'No.' Mitchell said. 'Point taken.'

Joey glanced over his shoulder at the little girl, shaking his head. 'I really hope this was all an accident and not a massive ONI op gone wrong. There's no way you can justify killing ten million people to test a bio weapon.'

'We'll find out, Private.' Scott said. He cast one last look at the dead girl before focusing back on the route ahead. Cars littered almost every inch of the road, some crashed, most abandoned, and further along a truck had crashed into the front of a building. Rubble was strewn in all directions around it.

Ahead, Scott could see the financial district and industrial sector, sitting by themselves on an island in the middle of a large lake set within Grannus. Bridges spanned the mass of water, connecting the isolated island to the rest of the city. From the information packet, Scott knew the island was around seven kilometres squared and shaped like a rough rhombus, starting wide at the south end before tapering to a half kilometre wide point to the north. A crescent shaped bay lined the west side, filled with various pleasure craft that, had it been summer, would be sailing around the lake.

But today, they remained moored up, their owners dead, infected, or hiding.

Scott checked his maps and plotted a route to the nearest bridge.

**Spartan Pierce**_**,**_** city of Grannus, residential sector. 0947 Hours, February 13, 2553 (Military Calendar)**

'Well, now what?' Joey asked

All of the bridges leading over to the island had been blown. Scott guessed it was done to keep the infected out but, judging from how quickly the virus had spread, he doubted the destruction of all eight bridges had done anything to reduce infection rates, just deny the Spartans a means of getting across.

They could swim. It wouldn't be much of a challenge. With the lake being landlocked and fed from all manner of small tributaries that came in from the mountains, there would be no meaningful current to fight against. It would be a long swim, though, of nearly two miles at the thinnest part but that was on the other side of the island.

'Underground.' Emily said. 'I saw a transit hub a few klicks back. Should be some tunnels that go under the lake to the island.'

'And if they're flooded?' Mitchell asked as Grey retraced their steps, following Emily.

'We swim.' Scott said.

**Spartan Pierce**_**,**_** city of Grannus, underground transit station. 1013 Hours, February 13, 2553 (Military Calendar)**

The station seemed to be in just as much of a mess as the world outside, if not more so.

Grey found evidence that the station had been used as either a temporary shelter against the infected or was in the process of being turned into a fully fledged stronghold. All but one of the security gates had been closed fully while the last was half down, forcing the Spartans to duck under it.

Beyond the gates were ramshackle defences where a shooter could fire from cover every few metres down the main hallway. The lights were all off barring one or two exceptions that kept trying to light up, only to fail and start the process up all over again.

On the floor there were dozens upon dozens of shell casings, spent magazines and the bodies of the infected. Evidently, a mob of them had tried to swarm the defences. Grey kept their weapons ready.

Pressing on, they began seeing bodies clutching weapons. Mostly they were assault rifle, magazines empty, but spread here and there were pistols and SMGs.

Scott spied an M7S, a suppressed variant of the M7 issued to vehicle crews and favoured by commandoes like the ODSTs, and picked it up. There was a generous application of blood on the body of the weapon and its attached scope, but a quick test fire revealed it still worked.

'Pick up one if you can.' He said to the rest of Grey as he started looking for spare magazines. 'If the infected are attracted to light and noise, we'd be better off with a suppressed gun.'

'Provided, of course, we can find ammo.' Mitchell said as he pried an M7S from the fingers of a woman who's face had been burned by an acid of some kind.

'There was a company of mechanised infantry, Gunny.' Emily said. 'They'll have spare clips in their barracks.' She found two of the silenced SMGs next to a body, one in each hand and a trail of dead infected before him. She picked them up and tossed one to Joey.

'Thanks.' He said.

Now armed with an M7S each and as much ammo as they could scavenge, Grey moved away from the battle and deeper into the station. More bodies greeted them every step of the way, often in clumps surrounding a barricade or piece of cover where the defenders had attempted to hold them off.

Judging by the diminishing number of dead infected and growing number of dead survivors, each time the defenders had been pushed back their overall fighting ability fell as more of their number died.

Then they reached the main hub of the train station.

It was a large space, the ceiling easily twenty metres from the floor, with tunnels just like the one Grey had emerged from going off to the different tunnels. Most had been crudely blocked off by anything and everything, including several sinks that still had the pipes connected and a smattering of plaster and concrete around the fittings, but what drew the Spartan's attention was what filled the centre of the hub.

The station had been converted to serve as a home for at least fifty people. Beds were scattered all over with no real organisation that Grey could discern with lights and portable generators here and there which, had they any power, would have cast more than enough light to see by. Heaters were spread across the room as well, as were crates filed with supplies and ammo.

Dead bodies occupied most of the floor space.

'Holy shit.' Mitchell whispered as he stared out over the devastation. A huge fight had taken place, knocking over some of the beds and lights, and where there wasn't a shell casing there were bodies, limbs, blood. 'The fuck happened here?'

'Their defences were breached.' Scott said as he headed to one of the crates, sifting through it for spare clips. 'The defenders tried to repulse the attack but failed.' He found half a dozen spare magazines for his M7S and clipped them into place on his armour. 'Level of decomposition suggests it happened at least three weeks ago.'

The stench of rotting flesh was heavy in the air, barely noticeable through the air filters in the MJOLNIR armour, but it was enough to make Scott breath through his mouth.

Emily joined him in gathering ammo while Mitchell and Joey wandered through the mess, heading slowly to one corner where a final stand had taken place. The bodies of a dozen people, weapons in hand, were lying in front of the bodies of just as many children. Closer inspection revealed a single bullet wound in each child's head.

Joey turned away from the sight.

'You okay?' Scott asked.

'Yeah, I... I'm just...' He let out a short breath and shook his head. 'I have a little sister, around the same age as them.' He jerked a thumb at the children. 'Trying not to imagine it's her lying there, bullet in her head.'

Scott nodded. 'Start looking for a tunnel that leads to the financial district. I don't want to be here any longer than I have to.'

The Spartan nodded and quickly left the room, glad to be away from the dead.

Mitchell walked away from the corpses as well. 'You think what they did was right, Commander?'

'Killing the children before the infected could get to them?' Scott asked, getting a single nod back. 'Maybe. It would have been quick and painless compared to the infected killing them.'

'But done by someone they would have trusted, even loved.' Mitchell said. He looked back over his shoulder at the children. 'Might not have been a physical pain they felt at the end.' He sighed and walked after Joey. 'If this was all orchestrated by ONI, I'm going to find the bastard responsible and make Heyman look like a paper cut.'

Scott winced slightly at the idea then went back to sifting through the crate as Mitchell left.

'What are we going to do if this was all done by ONI?' Emily asked on a private COM. 'We wouldn't know who to go to with the evidence.'

'There's bound to be someone.' Scott said. 'HIGHCOM would be our best bet but it wouldn't hurt to look through the personnel files and find out who was involved and to what extent. If we can't find any information on who authorised the program or the release of the weapon into the general public, we can just delete all the data in the ONI facility to prevent it from being repeated on another colony.'

'What about using the data to create a vaccine for the New Flu?'

'I'm hoping ONI will have created that before releasing it.' Scott said. 'If not, we'll have to take some samples with us and give it to the doctors to make a vaccine.'

'So long as it's possible to make one.' Emily said, attaching the last magazine to her armour. 'If one can't be made, then the _Storm _may have to nuke this place just to destroy all traces of the virus.'

'I know.' Scott said, readying his SMG.

'_Sir? Got a tunnel.' _Mitchell said on an open COM. '_No sign of a train and it looks like whoever made their last stand upstairs tried to do what we're doing and use it to escape.'_

'How can you tell, Gunny?' Scott said as he and Emily headed for the station leading to the financial district.

'_There are a _lot _of bodies down here, Commander.' _Joey said. _'And plenty of spent ammo, too.'_

'_Yeah. Only problem is that there's about a foot of water in the tunnel.' _Mitchell said as Scott and Emily found the correct stairs. '_We've got a leak somewhere.'_

'Understood, Gunny.' Scott said. 'We'll be there soon.'

**Spartan Pierce**_**,**_** city of Grannus, underground transit tunnel, en route to the financial district. 1124 Hours, February 13, 2553 (Military Calendar)**

The water came halfway up their calves, swirling with each step Grey took and looked decidedly murky in the light thrown out by the torches on their SMGs and armour, bouncing with every movement.

A constant dripping noise made a change to the pouring rain in the world above and the deathly silence that had permeated the train station turned stronghold, now one mile behind them.

In front of Grey was three miles of dark and flooded tunnels reaching all the way to one of the stations serving the financial district. It would have taken them less than forty minutes to travel the entire tunnel but between the flooding and need for silence, it would take them nearly twice that.

'How come we haven't seen that many infected?' Mitchell asked after twenty minutes of silently slogging through the water. 'Grannus had a population of ten million and I reckon most got turned to zombies but so far, we've only seen six live ones and dozens of dead ones. Shouldn't it be the other way around?'

'Should be.' Joey said. 'Unless, of course, the New Flu fucks up the infected person's brain so much that they don't feel hunger anymore and in the time between the final evac message and us getting here, they've all starved to death. Well, most have.'

'We haven't made that much noise.' Emily said. 'All our chatter has been over TEAMCOM and to the outside world, we'd appear to be silent.'

'Could be smell.' Scott guessed. 'Our armour is a sealed system so nothing gets out without being put through a filter first. Those six we encountered yesterday were close to you and Joey, Gunny, but only attacked after the flash of lightning.'

'Sounds reasonable.' Mitchell said as he flashed his light over an open service hatch set into the wall. Blood was smeared around the handle. 'So all we have to do is keep talking on TEAMCOM, don't flash any lights near infected and don't take our armour off. I think we can manage that.'

Up ahead, the sound of a metallic clang and faint splash echoed off the tunnel's walls, prompting the Spartans to aim their weapons in its direction, lights flicking off in case an infected had made the noise, and advanced slowly in a staggered line.

Another splash, closer this time.

Scott brought out his battle rifle and peered down the scope, activating its auto zoom. He didn't see anything out of the ordinary at first, just the flooded tunnel continuing for miles, but as he began filtering out what did and didn't belong he saw something moving slowly towards them.

It looked to be a large group of people, milling about in the water. Some appeared to be in pain, clutching stomachs or heads, but otherwise unhurt and wearing sodden rags of clothing. Scott couldn't see any weapons or supplies.

'Infected.' He said, lowering his battle rifle. 'Around three dozen of them.'

'Any way around?' Mitchell asked.

'None that I can see.' Scott said. 'They're on both sides of the track and if we try to walk along the rail, our footsteps may startle them.'

Emily looked back the way they'd come to the service hatch. 'We could use the maintenance tunnel to get pas them.' She said. 'That hatch we passed leads into the tunnels. I don't think there'd be anything in them and the tight spaces would funnel any infected that came for us into a kill zone.'

'It'd do the same to us.' Scott said. 'Enclosed spaces would limit our movement and cut off escape routes.' He looked between the infected mob and the service hatch, thinking. 'Though if we somehow managed to draw the infected further into the tunnel back the way we came, we could hide in the entrance then slip out once the mob has gone.'

'Frag?' Mitchell asked.

'Frag.' Scott confirmed.

Grey back tracked to the service hatch as Scott pulled out a frag grenade, finger hovering on the activation button, and waited outside the bloodied entrance.

'On my signal.' Scott said. He activated the frag and threw it back along the tunnel, away from the infected. It sailed through the air leaving a faint trail of smoke as Grey began diving into the open hatch, only to freeze once they saw a fusion coil rigged to a motion sensor with the words 'Eat explosion, zombies!' scrawled above it in fluorescent letters.

The motion sensor glowed red but as Grey had approached it, the light turned green.

'Out!' Scott shouted needlessly as Grey was already backing away from the rigged fusion coil as it began beeping.

They managed to get just out of the door when it detonated, hurling all four Spartans into the opposite wall in a brilliant yellow explosion, the noise of the blast amplified and echoed up and down the tunnel, drowning out Scott's frag grenade when it exploded as well.

Grey fell to the floor and remained motionless, their shields recharging after a few seconds, then slowly began moving as another, more sinister sound replaced the last echoes of the explosion.

The sound of screams and roars.


	6. Chapter 6

**AN: ****I don't own Left 4 Dead or Halo. They belong to Valve and Bungie/Microsoft/343 Industries respectively.**

Chapter Six

**Spartan Pierce**_**,**_** city of Grannus, underground transit tunnel, en route to the financial district. 1130 Hours, February 13, 2553 (Military Calendar)**

There was no time to think. There was no time to catch their breath. There was only time to run.

Grey staggered to their feet, hands instinctively going for their guns as the horde of infected bore down on them, then ran as the last echoes from the explosion died out and a dull whine remained in their ears.

At least they weren't deaf.

'Short controlled bursts.' Scott shouted over the din of the infected. 'Try to get past them.'

The three other Spartans had drawn their assault rifles, choosing stopping power over stealth for the moment, flashed green acknowledgements and unleashed a hail of automatic fire into the oncoming threat, dropping the infected in ones and twos.

The only problem was that there seemed to be no end to them.

For every infected they cut down, two took its place. Worse, screams were now coming from behind the Spartans and a quick look over their shoulders proved this to be true. Dozens were clawing each other, trying to be the first to catch and kill the team, moving with such speed and frantic movements that the water around their legs was churning with every step.

'Move.' Scott ordered. 'Onto the rail.'

They jumped onto the MagLev rail, their footsteps making sharp metallic taps as they ran along its surface but they were mostly drowned out by the infected as they reached up to grab the Spartans. One hand managed to wrap itself around Scott's ankle, causing him to stumble, but he recovered and yanked it free.

Each Spartan fired short controlled bursts into the crowd as they sprinted but it made little to no difference. The bullets just seemed to create more infected.

Seeing it was making no difference, Grey gave up firing into the crowd and simply ran along the rail, quickly leaving the infected behind.

When they were far enough away and in a stretch of tunnel devoid of life, the Spartans got off the rail and reloaded their guns.

'Does that answer your question, private?' Mitchell asked as silence reigned supreme in the tunnel, barring the occasional dripping water and distant cries of the infected coming from behind them.

'One of them.' Joey said. 'I still want to know how this happened and why.'

'We'll find the answers.' Scott said as Grey resumed their march to the financial district.

'Yeah, but what kind of answer could justify killing an entire colony?' Mitchell asked.

'I'm sure ONI had their reasons.' Emily said. 'Reasons that they feel outweigh the loss of human life. Look at the Spartan-III project. They were routinely willing to trade the lives of three-hundred children to slow the Covenant and buy themselves time, sometimes as little as a few weeks.'

'Only difference between that and this is, you volunteered.' Joey countered. 'We saw a dozen kids dead in that train station and a little girl huddled next to a dumpster dressed in nothing but pyjamas, also dead. How many of them volunteered to test a bio weapon?'

'Provided that ONI did engineer a bio weapon and intentionally leaked it into the colony.' Scott said. 'Remember, we are working off speculation and no concrete evidence. The infection could have come from somewhere else, somewhere completely independent of ONI, and we're merely assuming the worst.'

'You were the one who came up with the theory of ONI developing and testing a biological WMD.' Mitchell said. Ahead, they could see a large cascade of water coming down from a crack in the tunnel's roof and beyond it were several more. The source of the water.

Scott nodded in the darkness. 'I also said that it was just a theory, and that ONI was just as unaware of what had happened on Hic Pilulas as we were. We don't have any evidence to support our suspicions, just feelings and speculations. Until we get solid information rather than scribbles on a wall and assumptions, I'm not going to commit to any one theory.'

'Okay.' Mitchell said as they walked on. 'But for arguments sake, let's say ONI did have a hand in releasing the New Flu. They developed the bio weapon, tested it on animals and livestock to get a feel of how it works. Hell, ONI probably made some flash cloned organs or even a full person to see what it would do to a human, so they'll know what it does. How would you justify releasing it onto an unsuspecting populace?'

Scott shrugged. 'I don't know. I'm not ONI, nor do I think like one.'

'Try.' Mitchell said. 'Humour me.'

So he did. Scott recalled every fact he could about Hic Pilulas, everything he knew about the use of biological agents in warfare, all the way back to the medieval times where rotting carcasses were launched into holdouts during sieges to spread disease, and about every major pandemic that had happened throughout human history.

'They were testing to see what it would do in a city.' Emily said before Scott could say anything. 'Testing a virus in a lab is one thing. You control a huge number of variables in there, such as dosage and air quality, but what you can't test is how it would react in real life. Things like how long the combination of air quality, light level, individual personal hygiene and response would inhibit or promote the spread of the virus.'

'Computers could do the same.' Joey said. 'An AI could factor all that in and give you a reasonable degree of accuracy.'

'That's not the same as actually doing it, though.' Emily said, glancing at Joey. 'It's like with training. It's designed to resemble combat as closely as possible but there's no real threat to you. It just gets you more prepared for actual fighting, where the threat is very real. A computer model of how a virus might spread through a city would be training, giving the people in charge a rough idea of what to expect if they did release the virus, but until they actual decide to release they won't know how it would actually spreads. Can you say that training was exactly like combat?'

'No.' Joey admitted. 'Okay, that's a fair point. But still. It means, provided ONI _is _behind it all, that someone _intentionally _released a deadly virus into Grannus and got most of the people here killed. That person is either a monster or believes they're doing it for the greater good.'

Grey reached the cascades of water and skirted around them. Scott idly wondered how long they had been there, and whether or not the cracks would widen and allow more water in, eventually flooding the train tunnel and denying them a means of getting to the mainland.

'Everything ONI does, they do it for the 'greater good'.' Mitchell said, looking pointed at Emily and Scott. 'So what if a few people get hurt or killed if it means the majority of us get another chance at life.'

'You don't have to like what the original Spartan programs did, Gunny.' Scott said, catching his implied meaning. 'But without them, Humanity might not have lasted as long as we did.'

'They still kidnapped six year olds and sent pre-teens to die.' He said.

Scott nodded. 'At least with the Spartan-III program, we were given a choice.'

'Which is more than can be said for Hic Pilulas.' Joey said as Grey pressed on down the tunnel, towards the final station and the financial district.

**Spartan Pierce**_**,**_** city of Grannus, underground transit station. 1214 Hours, February 13, 2553 (Military Calendar)**

The other station was in a similar state to the one Grey had first entered with makeshift bedding and crates strewn all over the place, dead bodies filling the gaps. There were no more dead children, thankfully, just adults and the corpses of the infected, distinguishable by their faded skin tones and raggedy clothing.

They stocked up on ammo and were about to head out when Emily paused, looking at one corner of the room.

She headed over to it and moved the remains of an infected woman to reveal a civilian grade radio set up, with the words 'Outpost Seven' scrawled onto the casing and wall behind it, sat on a crate.

Grey joined her in examining the device. A single bullet had punched its way through the outer shell, most likely ruining the internal components.

'What do you think?' Emily asked.

'That someone wanted to keep in contact with whoever was here.' Mitchell said. 'And that there are at least six other places like this scattered across Grannus.'

'Was there a radio in the other station?' Scott asked, thinking back. He hadn't seen one but then, he hadn't been looking for one.

'Anything's possible.' Joey said. 'But that place was even more trashed than his one so who knows where it might have gone if it was ever there.'

'But why have an outpost at both ends of a tunnel?' Mitchell put forward. 'Why not just have this one and cut down on the amount of supplies that are needed and eliminate the need to walk through that flooded tunnel? In fact, why have this here in the first place? Wasn't the financial district home to three or so strongholds?'

'It was.' Scott said. 'But if Vyrant is the only one left, these stations may have been set up to reduce the strain on it and free up space while giving the survivors a means of keeping their only route to the Conagher Space Elevator open. None of the bridges are intact and the people who are left may not know how to sail, or can't get to the boats because of the infected.'

'The tower is well over a kilometre high.' Mitchell said. 'All they'd have to do is convert the next floor up or down into a living area and they could fit more in.'

'There could be problems other than living space.' Emily said. 'Too many people forced into one central locations from all different walks of life during a stressful time with no clear leadership could cause them to turn against each other and be just as much of a threat as the infected. Even with a leader that has a plan, tensions can and will run high. These outposts may be part of a strategy to prevent that.'

'Doesn't look like it worked too well.' Joey said, looking out across the debris strewn room. 'Might have helped fend of cabin fever but judging by the state of this place, the infected were more than they could handle.'

'Yeah, well, they weren't us, were they?' Mitchell said, hefting his assault rifle.

'They did their best.' Scott said. He checked his mission clock and maps, noting they were now less than four kilometres from the tower and its supposed stronghold. 'Come on, we're almost there.'

'After you, Commander.'

**Spartan Pierce**_**,**_** city of Grannus, financial district. 1300 Hours, February 13, 2553 (Military Calendar)**

The rain hadn't let up during their time underground and puddles littered the street, some choked with litter and some with bodies. Whether they were infected or not, and whether their death was natural or not, remained unclear as their bodies were bloated and swollen, morphed into almost unrecognisable shapes.

Grey passed them by, heading for their destination of Vyrant Tower.

They were the only things moving in this sector of the city which only added to the sense of foreboding.

Even so, Scott and Emily couldn't shake the feeling that they were being watched. It was just a nagging feeling at the back of their mind, whispering away, and ever present. They kept their weapons close and their fingers on the trigger. Whatever was watching them was nearby.

'Keep an eye out.' Scott said, craning his neck upwards. Around them, the skyscrapers of Grannus' financial district towered high above them, creating a canyon of glass and steel that had become a graveyard. Dark clouds still hung above them, releasing their contents, just as they had since Fireteam Grey arrived.

'Gut feeling?' Mitchell said.

'Yes.'

The former ODST went uh-huh but moved his assault rifle in a slow sweep, watching for trouble.

Then their radios came to life.

'_H-Hello? Is-Is this thing on?' _It was a male speaker but young, judging by the tone and pitch, and nervous. _'Can you hear me?'_

'This is SPARTAN-B1-' Scott began to say before stopping himself. 'Spartan _Pierce _of Fireteam Grey, responding. Identify yourself and state your current location.'

'_Oh, thank God.' _The man whispered. '_Spartans. My-My name is Nigel Douglas. I'm in the Vyrant Tower south of you, floor seventy. Please, hurry. We've been waiting for someone to come and rescue since the evacuation order went out. We've got wounded!'_

'Keep calm, Nigel.' Scott said as Grey set off at a jog towards the massive building. 'We're coming. How many of you are there?'

'_Around a hundred, maybe?' _Nigel said. _'I don't know. We had more but between the New Flu, the infected and that little 'incident' last week, we're all that's left.'_

'Don't worry, help is coming.' Scott said. 'We've got a cruiser in high orbit that can get everyone to safety.'

Nigel whispered a prayer as Grey made their way to the tower.

**Spartan Pierce**_**,**_** city of Grannus, inside Vyrant Tower, floor seventy. 1337 Hours, February 13, 2553 (Military Calendar)**

With no power, the Spartans had been forced to take the emergency stairs all the way up to floor seventy, where Nigel and the other survivors had retreated to.

They kept their weapons ready all the way through their ascent. Even though the tower was being used as a stronghold, it was by no means clear. Screams, whimpers and howls filtered through the doors every few floors. The infected were in the building but, thankfully, not in the stairwell.

Grey finally emerged onto the correct floor and saw that it was the site of the executive landing pad with one Pelican and two Falcons parked outside in the rain. Opposite them was a heavily reinforced wall with all but one of the doors sealed up. The last one had been removed and replaced by a heavy duty item that looked like it was hand made from whatever the survivors could get their hands on. Scott saw part of it was the hull from a Pelican.

He marched up to it.

'Nigel, this is Spartan Pierce.' He radioed. 'We're outside.'

There was a heavy clunk, followed by several more, then the door swung outwards, forcing Grey to take a step back.

Behind the door stood two men, both carrying MA5C assault rifles that were lowered at the sight of the Spartan team.

One of them, the left hand one, stepped back to allow them room while the other waved them in.

Grey complied and the heavy door was shut after them with a definitive clang, its bolts slid back into place.

Inside the stronghold there were upwards of a hundred people, gaunt and wearing scruffy clothing. Many were crying, even sobbing, as the Spartans went deeper inside. A young couple held a faded photo out to them and Scott saw it was of a young girl. He soon recognised her as the same girl they had seen huddled next to a dumpster, dead.

'Jesus.' Mitchell whispered over the COM.

'Jesus indeed, Gunny.' Joey said as everyone made to touch the Spartans, make sure they were real, quietly thanking them for showing up.

The strain of the outbreak had drained their hope of surviving. See the four Spartans, and the knowledge that help had come, seemed to bring them back to life.

Further in, they saw that not only had the room been converted into a living space but that the survivors had managed to make their way into the floor above by boring out holes big enough to fit through, crude ladders connecting the two areas, while floor to ceiling windows offered a commanding if somewhat depressing view of Grannus. In the distance was the Conagher Orbital Elevator, a thin line reaching up to the clouds and beyond.

'You actually came.' A scraggly looking boy no older than seventeen said as he pushed his way through the crowd. Scott recognised the voice as Nigel. 'You're actually here.'

'Yes.' Scott said. 'We were sent to investigate the COM blackout. We just didn't know how bad it was down here.'

'Well, you're here now and that's what matters.' A woman said from behind them.

Grey turned as one to see the owner of the voice, a slim and tall woman in her late forties, early fifties, wearing the scuffed remains of an ONI uniform, the name Taylor stencilled onto the chest.

She walked over to them, hand held out for Scott to shake.

'Commander Taylor, ONI.' Taylor said once Scott let go. 'I run, or should say ran, the local branch here before everything went to hell. Been looking over this lot ever since.'

'What's the situation?' Scott asked.

'Fucked.' Taylor said. 'We've lost nearly everyone and the team we sent out to reach the COM relay on the space elevator never checked in. I'm assuming you didn't encounter them?'

'No, ma'am.' Scott said. 'You're the first non-infected humans we've seen since arriving.'

Taylor swore under her breath. 'They were good men.'

'I'm sure they were.' Scott said. He looked over the survivors as they watched Grey and Taylor. 'So how can we be of assistance?'


End file.
